


Spooky Season (Espada Edition)

by darkling59



Series: Howling at the Moon [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27088075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkling59/pseuds/darkling59
Summary: A series of Halloween-themed ficlets counting down to the day itself, mostly centered on Coyote Starrk and the Espada. I'll update the tags as new chapters are posted.Chapter 8:Starrk is brought back to life and has a hard time adjusting to his unfamiliar, weak human form.Chapter 9:Lilynette takes herself trick or treating and quickly finds out that there are big bad wolves hiding in the darkness.Chapter 10:Starrk is a tombstone engraver, an occupation that sometimes creeps out his younger sister Lilynette.Chapter 11:Ichigo and his friends discover that (a) werewolves are a thing and (b) they're much closer than anyone knew. Starrk's just surprised that they are surprised.Chapter 12:A cursed graveyard traps the souls of everyone buried within and, on Halloween, they are summoned into physical form by a necromancer's spell.Chapter 13:The eerie flickering of a jack-o-lantern's candle bears a remarkable resemblance to an imprisoned soul.Chapter 14:A cursed scarecrow lurks in the shadows of his cornfield and has a surprise run-in with a fledgling vampire.
Series: Howling at the Moon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977091
Comments: 20
Kudos: 26





	1. Witching Hour

**Howling at the Moon #62: Spooky Season #1 (Witching Hour)**

* * *

_Prompt : pointy shoes, broomstick, demon_

_Lilynette is a wanna-be witch who's trying to establish herself without revealing that she accidentally made a pact with a demon named Starrk._

* * *

"Oh, come _on!_ "

The howl of anger had a distinct whine behind it and Starrk lethargically raised one pointed ear in its direction.

"What happened?" He grumbled after a long five minutes of indistinct muttering and swearing.

"I got rejected! Again!"

With a quiet _thud_ , a young girl with green hair landed on the floor next to the demon and he cracked open a bleary eye to glare at her. She returned the expression with interest. Her big pink eye and small stature should have made her an endearing sight, but her face was twisted into a massive scowl that would have made even the most open-minded person think twice about using the word 'cute'.

…Come to think of it, Starrk had never actually seen her embody that word.

"Come _on_ , Starrk! You're supposed to help me! You're my familiar!" She shoved roughly at his shoulder, being careful to avoid the sharp black spurs that ran along his shoulders.

The demon reluctantly opened both of his eyes and raised his head. A wide yawn revealed two rows of sharp blood-red teeth. Lilynette set her jaw and didn't even flinch at the maw inches from her face.

"Okay, okay." He ran one hand, tipped by sharp black claws, through his messy hair and sat up next to her, reaching for the letter in her hands. "What did they say this time?"

She shoved his leathery wings out of the way roughly so she could sit shoulder to shoulder with him and let him take the piece of paper. Starrk rolled his eyes and pulled his wings more tightly against his back to make room.

"They said I can't be a real witch until I've attended four years at a qualified school, and I can't get into a school unless I…what was it…"

"…Exhibit clear signs of magical potential and maturation or development of your powers." Starrk read tonelessly, frown slowly deepening with each word.

"Yeah, that!" Lilynette bounced once before grimacing when the hard stone floor smacked her backside hard on the way down. "What does it even _mean?_ "

"It means they don't think you have magic." Starrk's brow furrowed. "Did you tell them about me?"

"Why would I do that? You're _my_ familiar! And no one else needs to have a familiar to go to school! Why should I?"

"It would be proof of your magical abilities."

"But then they'd try to take you away, and that's…I'm _not_ doing that!"

Her eye skittered away from Starrk and abruptly he was reminded of their meeting. She was a tiny slip of a girl standing lost and alone at the crossroads, one-eyed with blood still streaming down her face from the cut socket, trembling in the rain and darkness of the witching hour and clearly terrified but unwilling to back down from the monster staring down at her. He also remembers the pentagram, the blood, and the still-warm body of the master warlock who'd thought to find an easy victim in a misplaced little girl. He could have devoured her then and there or simply left, but something in him called out to her…and something in her called back.

…Perhaps he should not be encouraging her to tell people about him. Neither of them knew the identity of the warlock she killed or if he told anyone what he was planning that night. Either of them could easily become a target.

"I'm not protesting." He replied. "But you'll need to do _something_ to get their attention."

"Everyone else-!"

"Witches and warlocks usually run in bloodlines." He interrupted her unceremoniously, to her irritated grumbling. " _Old and wealthy_ bloodlines. You're probably not on their radar because you're not related to any of them."

"So, what, if I get a pointy hat and shoes, or a broomstick and a wand…then they'll see me as a real witch?"

"You need to do _something_ to set yourself apart." He shrugged, handing the paper back to her and leaning against the wall, spreading his wings a bit to take advantage of the sunbeam he'd been sleeping in before Lilynette so rudely interrupted him.

"So they _can't_ reject me." That crafty glint her eye did not bode well for either of them. "I need to do something _big_ , something they'll _notice._ "

"…Lilynette…"

She ignored the warning in his tone, steamrolling onward.

"Witches like fire, right? Fire and flying? Are there any fire spells in that big book you got me?"

She scrambled away, gears turning in her mind, and Starrk grimaced at her back at the thought of what she could do with his demonic tome and _fire_.

But there was a handy sunbeam at his back and it wasn't _his_ job to save the world from witches and wizards…just to keep Lilynette safe. He'd be there when she cast the spell to make sure it didn't explode in her face, but until then…

He sank back to his stomach with a faint hum to enjoy the warm afternoon sunlight.  
  
---


	2. Cursed Vengeance

**Howling at the Moon #63: Spooky Season #2 (Cursed Vengeance)**

* * *

_Prompt : wizard, cursed, black dress_

_In the aftermath of a vicious shinigami attack, shapeshifting wizard Starrk is forced to work with a similarly cursed witch (Hallibel) to free Lilynette from his enemies._

* * *

It's not difficult to take on a cursed form. For Starrk, it's easier to be in cursed form than human form and the giant wolf feels more like 'him' than standing on two legs ever has. Never mind the glowing symbols tracing his limbs and back, four ears, barbed tail, hole in the chest, and nine tails…it still feels _right._

…Or it _would_ if he didn't have a bloody, silver-laced puncture wound in his upper right chest.

Starrk staggers through the woods, panting harshly from the pain. He's taller than most of the trees in this shape and his legs rival the tree trunks for size but he's still shaking from pushing himself too hard after such a grievous wound. Many of them topple when he bumps into them too hard, making his trek noisy and drawing attention from everyone and everything in vicinity.

The animals wisely flee when they notice him and if there are any humans nearby, they quickly follow suit.

However, he's not looking for _them._

"Starrk."

He stops, head lowered and puffing through his nose when a familiar, no nonsense voice hails him from the ground. It takes longer than it should to find the speaker but eventually his eyes land on the black-clad form of a beautiful woman in a black dress seated astride a broom overhead.

"…Hallibel." He grunts out in greeting and lets his hind legs slide out from under him so he falls into a sitting position.

The younger witch takes this as permission to inch forward, eyeing him warily. She's in human form and wearing the traditional clothes of her kind: a black dress accentuates her shapely figure, black high-heels come to blade-sharp points (Literally. There's a metal pick in each toe.), and a black hat sits atop her messy golden hair. Pale blue curse marks wind their way across the tan skin of her hands and arms, glowing with ready magic as she comes closer to Starrk, and her green eyes are narrow and cold.

"What's wrong with you?" She snaps.

He huffs out a deep sigh. "…Shinigami. One of them got me."

He raises onto his hind legs, towering above her even in the air, and she stiffens before noticing that he's bared his wound to her. Even Hallibel's frosty composure wavers at the sight of the massive gash and she can't quite suppress a sympathetic wince. It's a sign of weakness she quickly covers and Starrk notices but says nothing.

"I see." She glides backwards and looks him over again, more appraising than wary now. "But I don't see why you're _here._ "

"I was looking for you."

Just like that, her wariness is back.

"For me? Why?"

Starrk shifts from paw to paw before grimacing, a severely intimidating expression with such giant teeth.

"They took Lilynette."

This time, he purposely bares his teeth in clear anger and Hallibel pulls back even further, ready to flee if he takes out his temper on her.

"…I'm sorry to hear that."

His eyes sharpen on her. "I need your help to get her back."

She was _not_ expecting that. The two of them might have neighboring territories but they've only spoken to each other a handful of times and cursed witches and wizards rarely have anything nice to do with each other. There's too much competition and bad blood in their history.

"…What?"

"The shinigami know about me and they'll be prepared. I need someone to help me who they won't be expecting, and you're pretty good with magic."

"Thanks." Her response is dry but her mind is racing. He's asking for a _favor_. That's…new. And potentially very useful. It's also flattering; he could go to Barragan or Ulquiorra, or even the wizards with more violent curses for a distraction, but he came to her. The most powerful cursed wizard she's ever known chose to come to _her_ for help.

She can't really say no; _that_ would definitely make him an enemy, one she's not powerful enough to face, but she doesn't especially want to. There's potential here, a lot of it.

…And she might not have ever met this Lilynette, but if she's a cursed witch, Hallibel would never leave her in shinigami clutches. No one deserves that, not even _Barragan._

"If I do this, you'll owe me a favor." She drifts closer again as the massive wolf dips his head in a nod of acknowledgement.

He shifts his weight and lifts one huge paw, forming a glowing symbol in the air over it, a convoluted mix of sharp angles and convex curves with a Latin numeral 1 in the very center. A binding wizard's circle.

"It's a deal." He offers the circle to Hallibel and she studies it closely before nodding, giving no sign that it's too complex for her current knowledge and abilities, and forms her own symbol: a numeral three surrounded by curving lines that twist so fluidly they give the impression of water.

"Agreed."

The symbols come together in a fountain of rainbow sparks, magically sealing their agreement. The bright light fades quickly, leaving dancing after-images in its wake.

For a moment, they remain quiet, the only sound in the forest Starrk's blood dripping sluggishly from his wound. But he's in a rush, for all that his attitude is as laid back as ever.

"I know where the shinigami are." He pushes himself back to his feet. "Let's go."

"Shouldn't you heal first?" Hallibel zips overhead on her broom, in considerably better spirits.

"No, I'll be fine."

She eyes him, then looks back at the massive trail of blood leading back through the forest, clearly defining his route. But if he's not worrying about it, why should she?

"Alright. Let's go."

The shinigami would rue the day they messed with Starrk's kin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please Read and Review!**
> 
> **Happy Halloween!**


	3. A Howling Good Time

**Howling at the Moon #64: Spooky Season #3 (A Howling Good Time)**

* * *

_Prompt: bloodcurdling, terrified, poltergeist_

_Lilynette plays the part of a poltergeist while Starrk is recovering in the human world after the Winter War and she has a ball terrifying people away from her 'haunted house'._

* * *

The bloodcurdling shriek of a hollow is unmistakable to anyone who's ever seen one of the heartless monsters hunt. It starts as a reverberating animalistic howl that gets louder and higher pitched until it culminates in a sound like a dying a human's screech of pain and terror. Imagine that, then imagine it repeated a hundred, a thousand times in the same second, a different voice for every soul the hollow has consumed, all of them screaming their rage and despair at the world at the same time. It's hair-raising, soul-shattering, and unmistakable.

…If you know what a hollow is.

For an average human, spiritually aware or not, it's enough to cause a hell of a fright. Even if they can't exactly hear the sound, there's a sense of _something dangerous_ that hits them right in the hindbrain and convinces them to leave. _Now._

Lilynette doesn't much care about the specifics. What she _does_ care about is _results._

"Yeah, that's right! Beat it, punk! This is _my_ house!" She yells, hands braced on her hips, as a young human man scrambles away from her on his hands and knees, the whites of his eyes clearly visible as he stares around wildly in terror. It takes him ages to get to his feet and then he's running down the block like the furies are on his tail.

The little arrancar smirks widely and slams the door behind him with a gesture, the loud _bang!_ Causing the walls to shudder and a window pane cracks in its frame somewhere to her left. There are only two rooms on the main floor of the house and she eyes them both with disinterest. Aside from the moving boxes piled in every corner, there's little to distinguish the two wood-paneled rooms from each other.

"I got 'im, Starrk! I don't think he's gonna come back!" She throws back her head and yells

"Great." A low groan greets her as she hops up the stairs behind her, taking them two or three at a time. She could just sonido, but then she wouldn't get the satisfaction of making a loud _'Stomp!'_ with every step. She revels in all the noise she can make, and the chaos her actions cause when there are humans nearby.

Her smile dims when she comes upon the first bedroom and gets a good look at her companion.

The primera espada is laying on the floor, a threadbare mint-green pillow the only thing around to provide any sort of comfort. He's curled on his side loosely with one arm clutched against his chest and his eyes are closed tightly, face lined with pain.

…He's been in pain a lot since the battle of Karakura Town.

"Starrk?" Lilynette inches forwards. She'd never really thought of her other half as fragile before their defeat, but now she's deathly afraid he's going to die on her. That he's going to leave her alone. "You okay?"

"I'm still here." He grunts and opens one eye, angling his head to look up at her. "It's healing, just slowly. There's nothing to eat here." He sighs. "Nothing strong enough to eat in Hueco Mundo, either."

"…Right." She doesn't bother offering to find him souls to eat. Not only doesn't she want to leave him alone but no human soul could make a dent in the primera espada's energy levels – good or bad.

He looks at her for a moment before sighing and pushing himself up to lean against the wall. The massive hole in his chest flexes and blood slowly trickles out of it – but _just_ a trickle, compared to the torrents that came out the last time he tried moving.

"Starrk!" Lilynette is at his side in a heartbeat. "Don't _do_ that!"

"It's okay. I'm fine." He grimaces then grabs her wrist and tugs her down next to him. "Tell me about the human you scared away."

Instantly, she lights up.

"This guy was alone, not like the other three, and he came with this weird little board thing and tried stapling pieces of paper all over the place. It was super weird. He got really excited when I opened all of his boxes, though." Her hands gesticulated wildly as she talked, to the point that Starrk had to lean back to avoid getting hit. "He didn't get scared at all for a while. At _all!_ It was _insulting._ All he did was look at his little box and phone. So I broke them! I grabbed his phone and threw it _into_ the box and they both shattered."

Starrk grimaced. "Bet he didn't like that."

"Nope. Not at _all._ But he got mad at first, not scared, so when he turned on his little radio thing, I yelled at him that I wanted him to leave. _Then_ he started to get scared, but he didn't leave until I howled at him. A real, big _hollow_ howl. He ran all the way down the street!" She grinned with dark mischief. "I bet he pissed his pants."

Her companion huffed quietly. "Sounds like you did a good job. Was he easier or harder than the others?"

"Harder. Way harder. He actually seemed to know that we were here when he brought his boxes in. He was talking and waving his little box around a lot. The others just heard me, screamed, and took off."

"Hmm…" Starrk let his head lean back against the wall, deep in thought. "We might need to leave soon."

"What?! But I'm doing good!" Lilynette poked at his chest, stopping just shy of actually touching it. "And you need to stay still to heal!"

"Once I'm better, I mean. And you're doing great." The primera slumped back to the floor with a sigh of relief. "But if this place is getting a reputation, the shinigami might come investigate. We don't want to be here when that happens."

"I guess…but I can scare the humans away until then, right?"

"Right." He yawned and put his arm over his eyes. "Keep up the good work."

"Oh, don't worry." Her smirk is downright evil. "I will. I can't _wait_ for someone else to try to move in!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	4. Tricks and Treats

**Howling at the Moon #65: Spooky Season #4 (Tricks and Treats)**

* * *

_Prompt : wizard, ghoulish, candy_

_Lilynette and Starrk are children going trick or treating and encountering child versions of Grimmjow and a few other espada on the way._

* * *

"What're you supposed to be, Dumbass?" A boy with bright blue hair puts his hands on his hips and glowers up at a figure at least a head taller who is completely obscured by a long white sheet. There are two irregular holes cut around eye-level, but they're slipping to the side so it's doubtful that they're serving their purpose.

"I'm a ghost." This voice is deeper and completely lackluster, missing all of the emotion the first boy exudes just by standing tense and glaring. The sheet shifts like the occupant is moving a hand, but his voice is completely monotone. "Woooo…"

Grimmjow scoffs and tosses his head, smacking a long length of bright blue faux-fur tail away from his hip and back behind him where it's tucked into the waistband of his pants…also blue, along with the threadbare tshirt, painted nails, and set of fluffy ears perched on his head. "That's stupid, Starrk."

The taller boy sighs and shrugs, making his 'costume' shift in the cold late-October breeze. The effect is unintentional, but it looks creepily like the sheet is moving on its own, like a real supernatural creature. "What are _you_ supposed to be, Grimmjow?"

"I'm a blue panther!" The younger boy throws his head back with clear pride.

"You look like a pussycat!" A new voice intrudes, a loud little girl, and both boys jump and look down to find Starrk's little sister, Lilynette, standing there with her hands on her hips, matching Grimmjow's stance but smaller.

"What'd you say to me, pipsqueak?!" He snarls, curling one hand into a fist.

Starrk pointedly slides between them and Grimmjow instantly averts his eyes but Lilynette keeps going, missing the undercurrent of tension.

"I said you look like a kitty!" She yells, loud enough to turn the heads of other trick or treaters. Nnoitra is closest, a ridiculously tall and gangly youth who's dressed in a plastic xenomorph mask and completely black clothes. Szayel is close behind, dressed like a 'scientist' in a lab coat, huge plastic glasses frames, and carrying a fake microscope in one hand, but he doesn't notice Lilynette's shouting; he's too busy doing shouting of his own at his brother Yylfordt, who's dressed in a detailed bull costume and following a step behind Szayel, constantly treading on the hem of his lab coat and making him trip and flail. Whether it's on purpose or on accident is anyone's guess.

"Well, I'm _not._ " Grimmjow snaps. He'd pop anyone else in the nose for daring to make the comment, but he won't pick a fight with Starrk – the other boy is older, bigger, smarter, and has a daunting reputation. Besides, Lilynette is _tiny_ , and fighting with a little kid isn't really impressive. It's kind of stupid. Grimmjow curls his lip at her and snarls as best he can. "Anyway, what're _you_ supposed to be?"

"I'm a wizard!"

"A wizard?" He looks over her blanket-cape (almost black, but fading to grey in places), sparkly black witch's hat, and plastic stick-wand. She's wearing black pants, a bright pink shirt with a pumpkin on the front, and beaten up old sneakers. Her parents probably hadn't had a hand in the cape or shirt…knowing her, they probably had no idea she wasn't wearing whatever they actually got her. "Don't you mean a witch?"

"No! Witches are stupid! I'm a wizard!" She sticks her tongue out at Grimmjow and takes off down the road, screaming over her shoulder. "C'mon, Starrk! Candy!"

"Coming, Lily." Starrk replies, much quieter, and offers Grimmjow an apologetic shrug. He doesn't really care about the candy, but he won't leave his sister out here alone. "See you at school tomorrow, Grimmjow."

"See ya, Mr. 'Ghost'." Grimmjow sneers and watches the two of them wander down the street until they're lost to the darkness. Then he makes sure no one is looking at him and takes a sharp turn away from the houses – trick or treating is for little kids, he knows where to find some _real_ fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read, left kudos, and commented!


	5. Bloody Sand

**Howling at the Moon #66: Spooky Season #5: (Bloody Sand)**

* * *

_Prompt: mummy, howling, skeleton_

_Starrk and Shunsui are forced work together (under protest) to track down a reanimated mummy bearing the curses of Egypt. (Inspired by The Mummy (1999))_

* * *

The sky above is black, but the horizon is deep red and a howling wind that smells like blood stirs the white sand of the high dunes all around, throwing small flurries into the air to form little whirlwinds that die out within seconds. The breeze groans like a dying thing and the scent sticks to the throat like sickness.

Beyond the dunes, a pyramid rises sharply in the west, a dark shape against the red horizon, and to the east, the blocky skyline of a modern city sparkles with electrical lights in the distance. In the hollows between the dunes, dark forms lay motionless, some of them already scavenged by animals and others avoided like the plague, even by the vultures. There are dozens of them, dressed in a mix of modern, antiquated, and ancient clothing.

Above the dunes, half a dozen figures hover in midair, standing in place as if on a flat surface. One is pointedly separated from the others by a dozen yards. There are bright flashes of glinting steel in the group, but only one man steps forward to confront the loner.

"Okay, I'm going to need an explanation for this one." The loner is dressed in white and floating but otherwise looks fairly normal…save for a massive empty hole in his chest, bisected by a nasty scar.

"Ah, Espada-san!" The other is a man dressed in pink-on-white-on-black and sporting a straw hat that pushes back to reveal twinkling, mischievous eyes.

"Not an espada any more, Taicho-san."

"Starrk-san, then!"

The former primera espada crosses his arms and directs a low-powered glower at his old enemy. Kyoraku doesn't even have the grace to apologize, just offers a wicked smirk and a shrug. Then he's forced to grab his kimono so the pink fabric doesn't fly away in the snarling breeze. Starrk raises an unimpressed eyebrow, then pointedly looks down at the figures in the sand below them.

The bodies are a gruesome sight, but it's the souls that really grab the attention of the ghosts; namely, the fact that most of them are _missing._ There are two opaque figures standing in the very center of the massacre, swaying back and forth on wobbly feet and staring blankly at nothing. They both still have their soul chains, but their bodies are… _faded_ in places. Even as Starrk watches them, their bodies grow dimmer and he senses their energy signatures diminish.

"So. You called me here." He continues as if Kyoraku had not spoken. "Why? What's going on?"

"Ah, it's not a pretty sight, is it?" The captain advances until he's only a yard or so from the arrancar but stops when Starrk's eyes shift to look at him, a clear warning. He gives no sign that it wasn't his own idea to stop, just turns to look at the bodies. "My subordinates were called here to deal with some errant souls that left our radar and we discovered…well. We're not sure _what_ we discovered. At first, we thought it was a hollow of some sort, eating them."

"That's not the work of a hollow." Starrk interrupts, descending until he's perched on the highest dune, closer to the dim souls. Neither of them turns to look at him, despite the fearsome reiatsu signature he's projecting. "They're not eaten."

"So a hollow couldn't do this?" Kyoraku's tone is sharper and so is his gaze as he comes to rest on the dune next to Starrk. This time, he isn't warned away.

"Not…necessarily. But a hollow wouldn't have a reason to do this…we only get energy from souls we devour."

"Hm. That makes sense. And it aligns with what our Twelfth Division found."

"Oh? What's that?" When Starrk realizes just how close Kyoraku has gotten, he scowls and walks away along the crest of the dune.

Immediately, the shinigami follows, talking the whole way. "That there is a reiatsu signature around these bodies, and the other caches just like this, and it is surprisingly human."

"…. _Human?"_ Incredulous, the former espada looks back over the scene just in time to see one of the souls dim entirely and vanish from existence. Its soul chain is the last thing to disappear. "A _human_ did this? How?"

"Not fully human. The signature is warped somehow, like the creature has been merged with a hollow, or their soul has been…altered." The implications leave a heavy tension in the air between them.

Starrk breaks it with a sigh. "And that's why I'm here, I take it? You want to know if Aizen had anything to do with it? I can tell you right now that he didn't. All of his attention was on the Karakura Town mess. And even if he did want to do something like this, he wouldn't trust such power to someone outside of his direct control."

"Good to know, but we already came to that conclusion on our own. Thank you for the confirmation, however!"

"…Sure. Whatever. So why am I here, then?"

"Well…" The mischievous grin that slides onto the shinigami's face instantly puts Starrk on guard and he pulls back.

"What?" The single word is a gruff growl.

"Oh, it's nothing that bad! But we've been having trouble tracking such an odd reiatsu signature and, while Captain Kurotsuchi is sure he'll be able to put something together eventually, time is of the essence. And I happen to know you arrancars are especially good at tracking reiatsu…"

Starrk furrowed his brow. "You want my pesquisa? That's it?"

"For the most part. For now." There's actual regret on Kyoraku's face when he continues. "And I'm afraid your assistance is of the essence here."

"Uh-huh." Starrk glances at the other shinigami that came with KYoraku, noting the zanpakuto they're all holding free and ready to use. The 'you won't be leaving until we let you' implication hovers in the air between them. "Why bother _me_ with this? There are hundreds of other hollows you could have dragged out of Hueco Mundo."

" _Other, less dangerous hollows_ ", goes unsaid but heard just the same.

"You're the most reasonable and you've been willing to assist us in the past." Kyoraku finally cuts to the chase. "And you're most likely to have the intelligence and ability to succeed." He smiles, more friendly than mischievous this time. "And for all your danger, you're the least likely to actually attack."

"Hmph." Starrk grunts, then looks up at the sky and sighs again, heavy and put upon. "Oh, fine. But you'd better not ask me to fight anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Shunsui claps him on the shoulder and takes the lead down towards the bodies. "Now, we think the trail starts around here…"

Starrk takes one last look at the remaining plus soul, watching it fade out of existence just like its companion, then silently follows Shunsui down into the sands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the 1999 Mummy movie. It's hokey and silly and the cgi isn't great...but it's just so much fun.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read, commented, and left kudos!


	6. Trailblazers

**Howling at the Moon #67: Spooky Season #6 (Trailblazers)**

* * *

_Prompt : levitation, screaming, zombie_

_Starrk and Grimmjow are survivors of the zombie apocalypse, living in Aizen's compound and united under his command. But Grimmjow's as contrary as ever and Starrk's not exactly happy to have him tag along on a scavenging expedition._

* * *

"I can't believe we're following _Aizen._ "

"Grimmjow…" Starrk's groan is quiet and he's not surprised when it's immediately ignored.

"I mean, he's a scientist! He's not even one of us! The fucker was probably just waiting to see who would rip whose throat out before...before _whatever_ the hell he has planned _…"_

Starrk doesn't bother to point out that that's exactly what happened. Aizen waited until over 90 percent of the inmates in the prison had been killed or infected before deigning to step in and 'rescue' the rest. He'd known all along what was happening inside of their prison and waited until they were good and desperate and ready to take any offer of escape, even one so clearly stacked in his favor.

And of that ten percent, only about half of them made it out. The perils of being suddenly released into a prison overrun by hundreds of zombies.

Speaking of….

Starrk pauses in his slow trek along the high brick wall he's traveling across and looks down over the slowly moving, groaning crowd below. The zombies can hear and smell him and Grimmjow but don't have the intelligence left to look up the ten feet or so to actually see them so instead they are mindlessly bumping against the wall. Some of them are badly decomposed, reeking to high heaven and dragging themselves on nearly skeletal limbs that have long since decayed to almost nothing while others are fresh, still bleeding red from massive wounds. A young woman just joining the crowd catches his eye; she's so fresh that she almost looks alive…or she would if her eyes weren't dull grey, her mouth wasn't open in a slack gape, and there wasn't a bloody wound on her wrist crusted with dried brown and red blood.

Starrk sighs and shakes this head, feeling a touch of regret, then moves on. The shambling crowd inches their way along below, following the sound of Grimmjow's complaining.

"I mean, who does he think he is?! I beat the last guy that challenged me to death, and _he_ think he's got the right to order me around? I don't know how you and these other piss-ass pansy bastards can stomach his high and mighty attitude. If I were in command, the zombies would be eatin' well tonight!" He snarls, smacking one hand into the other in threat. It seems he's completely forgotten who he's talking to.

Starrk rolls his eyes and does not respond. Aizen is in command because he got them out of their prison. And because he has the weapons and technology to keep their makeshift compound defended….and to keep the former prisoners in line. All of them are well aware that the guns aimed to protect the walls could just as easily be focused _inside._

Scanning his surroundings, paying just as little attention to Grimmjow's ranting as the other man is to Starrk's long-suffering grunts of acknowledgement, Starrk notices a zombie lurching on a rooftop to their right. It was probably a survivor that climbed up after getting bitten and then couldn't get down; zombies don't have the coordination to climb in either direction.

With a grimace, Starrk frees his long hunting knife from its sheathe and gets ready to fight. The zombie is directly in their path and there's no other way to get to the convenience store where Aizen ordered him to patrol today. He hates it when he has to take the zombies out…they always look so _human_.

Grimmjow, predictably, does not notice. He follows behind Starrk as he steps off the border wall and onto the nearest roof, lost in the fury of his ranting. Possibly, it's a sign of trust that he _isn't_ on edge in such a dangerous situation and he's relying on Starrk to keep him safe. Either that, or it's a sign of stupidity.

Stupidity wins out.

When Starrk skirts the edge of the roof and comes up behind the zombie he saw before it notices him, another one lurches out of a broken attic window just behind Grimmjow. It's not quiet, but he still doesn't notice it until it's literally lunging _right at him._

" _Grrrruuuuuuuungggggnnn…"_ It burbles a groan right before it grabs him and he spins, yanked instantly from his headspace, and jumps three feet in the air with a startled scream.

"Son of a _bitch!_ " Instinctively, he lashes out with his fist and the brass knuckles on his fingers crack bone when they meet the zombie's cheek. It's flung to the side just enough for Grimmjow to jump away a few long steps to Starrk's side and the other man moves in fluidly to cover his back, slicing the new zombie's head off its body in a single stroke.

For a moment, there's quiet, just the faint panting of the two survivors and groaning of the zombies in the streets below breaking the silence.

Then…

"You see? You _see_?! I bet Aizen _knew_ these guys were here and that's why he sent us out! That sonuvabitch has _got_ to go down!"

"Grimmjow…"

"No, listen-!"

"No, enough is enough. I'm tired of listening to you." Starrk growls, finally fed up. He flicks his bloody knife to the side, both cleaning it and gesturing to the convenience store roof a few blocks ahead. A few blocks of expansive rooftops, some joined together, and plenty of them containing shambling zombies already turning towards the noise they'd made. "This is getting dangerous. Either shut up or go home."

Grimmjow huffs in apparent disgust but follows when Starrk continues, avoiding zombies where possible and killing them quietly when it's not.

The rest of the journey is made in sulky silence.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read, commented, and left kudos! We're almost halfway there!


	7. Carving Pumpkins

**Howling at the Moon #68: Spooky Season #7 (Carving Pumpkins)**

* * *

_Prompt : carved, spine-tingling, orbs_

_Gin forces the espada to carve pumpkins for Halloween under the guise of a bonding activity (more a creative sort of torture) and the results are…interesting._

* * *

"What fresh hell is _this?_ " Szayel's mutter manages to carry around the room despite the cacophony that always accompanied the espada when more than two or three met at once. He's usually the one to toady up and take pleasure in whatever Aizen has planned for them but today Aizen is not here. Instead, Gin is standing at the front of the room with a wide smirk on his face. It widens even further when he hears Szayel's grumbling.

"Glad ya asked!" He chirps and the espada's noise goes down on octave. (It doesn't stop. It never completely stops.) "Have any of ya heard of Halloween?"

For a long moment, no one answers. Then Ulquiorra lets out a quiet sigh and replies in a completely monotone voice. "Halloween is a human tradition. Children beg for food from strangers at night, wearing clothes that conceal their identity. It is a stupid past-time."

"Right you are, Mr. Killjoy!" Gin practically prances his way to the huge table they're all avoiding like the plague. "But that's not _all_ the holiday is! These -." He spreads his hands at the large, orange objects stationed every few feet. "Are _pumpkins._ It's a tradition to carve these into scary faces!" He waves his hand by his head to heighten the effect of his declaration. His enthusiasm is undeterred when no one reacts. "And I've brought them here so the ten of you can give it a try!"

" _What?!_ "

" _Why?!"_

_"I'm not going to carve a stupid vegetable!"_

"Do we have to?"

"Does Aizen know about this?"

Gin lets the new wave of chaos wash over him with a grin on his face.

"Now, I wouldn't want to tell Lord Aizen that you're slacking off!" He sing-songs after a long moment, just before Nnoitra can decimate the table and all of the pumpkins with his zanpakuto. _That_ gives them pause. Only the most powerful four seem unimpressed, but none of them have been participating in the protests anyway. True to form, they'll go along with Aizen's orders, one way or another. Gin isn't interested in _them._ Instead, he watches Grimmjow's rapidly fraying temper and the increasingly sulky look on Szayel's face.

"…What would Lord Aizen have us do?" Aaroneiro burbles from the shadows, far from the other espada.

"Why dontcha all pick up a knife and have a go?" Gin's grin doesn't fade as he backs towards the door. "I'm sure Lord Aizen would appreciate it!"

He slips out while they are all picking up knives and sizing up pumpkins. He wants to watch this from the surveillance room, where he can react however he wants and none of them know he's watching. It's going to be _priceless._

* * *

Two hours later, Gin slinks back into the room and has to stifle a laugh. It's pumpkin _carnage._ There are stringy orange pumpkin guts and small off-white seeds everywhere on the table, the floor, the walls, even the _ceiling._ The espada themselves look completely fed up and most of them are covered in pumpkin goop too – only Starrk seems to have avoided the party entirely and Ulquiorra looks like someone threw globs at him instead of getting it on himself. There are also plenty of cero-singe marks and knife cuts in every flat surface available.

"Let's see what you've been up to!" He sing-songs, just to see them flinch and jump.

The first one on his right is Yammy, and his offering is…not what he asked for, but pretty much what he expected. There's one sad little piece of pumpkin rind with a crude hole punched in it and a bunch of chewed up bits of pumpkin scattered around it.

"You weren't supposed to _eat_ it, Yammy."

"You didn't say that!" The tenth espada booms, then his face twists in in a sneer. "Can I go now?"

"Not yet." Gin's smile shrinks enough to make the arrancar flinch slightly and reach for his zanpakuto, then he turns to the next one in line. It's Nnoitra and his pumpkin looks only slightly better than Yammy's, but instead of eating it, the fifth espada has impaled it so many times that it is falling apart. Gin can literally see light through some of the holes, especially the narrow slit carved on the front that's probably supposed to be a sword, or a stick, or something. It's a testament to Nnoitra's frustration and immediately brings Gin's smile back to size.

"Good work!" He carols, met by an enraged snarl, and then moves on to Aarnoeiro.

His pumpkin is also in pieces, two bigger than the rest, and they're floating in a fishbowl. Each of the big pieces has a crude smiling face carved into it and both of them seem to look at Gin as he walks up. In fact, when he slides to the other side of the bowl, it _still_ looks like they're watching him.

"…Okay."

He moves on to Szayel and finds that the scientist has gotten his hands on _three_ pumpkins and they're all remarkably detailed and graphic anatomical diagrams of his favorite dissections – two shinigami and one arrancar. Gin knows they're his favorites because he gushes about them all the time. The eighth espada himself looks downright murderous and it takes Gin a long moment to realize why; it's because his normally-white clothes are stained orange from the… _enthusiastic_ …carving of his neighbors. He's practically vibrating with the desire to go and change into clean clothes.

Gin offers him a grin and moves on without saying anything.

Next is Grimmjow and his pumpkin closely resembles Nnoitra's, though the image is more elaborate. It's a crude cat rather than a sword (or stick). He doesn't seem to care that his shirt and hair are full of pumpkin goop, but he's glowering at Gin fit to kill and snarling under his breath.

"Not bad, Grimmy!" Predictably, the sixth espada bares his teeth and the only thing that keeps him from responding with a tirade of curses is his desire to leave and his fear of Aizen's reprisal.

Zommari is sitting beside the sixth espada and he offers his pumpkin as soon as Gin looks at him. It's…familiar. Gin looks at it, then back at Zommari, then back to the pumpkin. The surface of the gourd is covered in eyes, carved deeply over and over so they're looking in every direction. It's somewhat similar to the seventh espada's resurrection.

"Feelin' lonely, Zommari?" Gin needles, getting a deep frown in response.

Barragan… _should_ be next, but instead there are a few of his fraccion, Gin never bothered to learn their names.

"Where's your boss, guys?" He tries for pleasant but based on the way they pull away, he probably missed by a mile. One of them manages to respond, though.

"His Majesty Lord Barragan, God-King of Hueco Mundo, has no time for your childish…"

"Yeah, I don't care. He's not here. An' neither's his pumpkin." Either this is where Szayel got his extras or the fraccion completely demolished Barragan's pumpkin. Gin's leaning towards the latter; there's way too much pumpkin goop staining the fraccion for their pumpkin to have been stolen. At least, stolen in one piece. "I'll be talkin' with Aizen about this, don't you worry."

Aizen might not know or care about the pumpkin contest, that's Gin's own little joke, but he _will_ care that Barragan disobeyed a direct order. Discipline is in order.

Ulquiorra clearly drew the short straw because he's standing next to the fraccion and looking as annoyed as his unmoving expression will allow. On the table in front of him, his pumpkin has been carved into an eerily-realistic eye. It's not just a picture, either; the whole thing has been sculpted to resemble an eye. It's another pumpkin that stares back at Gin when he looks at it.

Not much amusement to be had there.

"Good work, Ulquiorra!" He chirps, just to see the muscle in the fourth espada's jaw tense.

Halibel is next and her frigid glare and prominently bared mask-teeth perfectly match the shark that she's carved into her pumpkin. It's not the most detailed or clean carving, but it's complete and the rest of her pumpkin is intact. Her narrowed eyes warn Gin away from any comments and he just offers her a friendly smile before moving on. (Though even that is enough to make her eyes narrow further.)

Last is Starrk, and Gin was expecting his pumpkin to be untouched. While watching from the surveillance room, he didn't see the primera move at all. Not even once. Even now, he appears to be sleeping slumped over the table with his head in his arms. To Gin's surprise, there's an impressively detailed howling wolf carved into the pumpkin, complete with a crescent moon carved in the background. It's even got a little eye carved in place.

"…Huh."

For a moment, Gin just stands there pondering it. He never took his eyes off the camera…was it possible he'd been so distracted by the others' noise that he'd overlooked Starrk carving quietly in the corner? Maybe…

"So, can we go now?" The primera grumbles, lifting his head from where it was laying on his arms. His eyes are awake and alert, annoyed but not to the point of aggression. Still, he's a bit more animated than Gin's used to and that's more of a reaction than he anticipated.

Gin grins and nods his head.

"Thanks everyone! I'll see you back here for the meeting. I'm sure Aizen-sama will be impressed!"

It's a stampede to the door and in seconds Gin is standing all alone.

Finally, he's free to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway there and losing some steam...
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's read, commented, and left kudos!


	8. What Once Was

**Howling at the Moon #69: Spooky Season #8 (What Once Was)**

* * *

_Prompt : reanimated, panicked, trembling_

_Starrk is brought back to life and has a hard time adjusting to his unfamiliar, weak human form._

* * *

_Ba-dump_

_Ba-dump_

_Ba-dump_

The breath shudders in Starrk's chest and he frowns slightly, slumbering eyes twitching and brow furrowing at the odd sound.

_Ba-dump_

_Ba-dump_

_Ba-dump_

It's familiar but…old. Instinctual. Something he doesn't remember but knows, deep in the core of his being.

_Ba-dump_

_Ba-dump_

It's also persistent. No matter how deeply he tries to sleep, the sound follows him.

_Ba-dump_

_Ba-dump_

With an irritated huff, he tries to turn over, only for the breath to rush from his lungs when he lands on his chest. And it _stays_ gone. Starrk _can't breathe._

He comes fully awake coughing and choking on air, forcing himself onto his hands and knees so that he can breathe.

"What…?" He gasps. It feels like there's still a weight on his chest even though he's no longer laying on it.

_Ba-dump_

_Ba-dump_

The sound appears to have followed him into the waking world. The dual sensations are overwhelming and he suddenly realizes that's because they aren't alone; his skin is also hypersensitive. The cool air hits his skin like shards of ice, making him shiver, and the thin sheet below him grates against his skin. Even the soft pillow is _too_ soft; it feels _wrong_ against him.

What's wrong with him?

Absently, he reaches up to press one hand against his hollow hole, to figure out why _that's_ not as cold and overstimulated as the rest of him and freezes when his hand touches skin instead of empty space. Warm, soft skin. Beneath it, he can feel blood rushing to a familiar beat.

_Ba-dump._

_Ba-dump._

It's a _heart._ _His_ heart.

"What…the hell?" He grates out, then immediately has to suck in a lungful of air. Because he has _lungs._ He's not just simulating breath through a body made of energy; he's _literally breathing._ For the first time in over a thousand years, he's dependent on oxygen to stay alive.

More to the point – _he's alive._

"This can't be happening." He has to pause in the middle of the sentence to suck in a gasp of air and his hand clenches against his chest.

_Ba-dump._

_Ba-dump._

It feels like his heart is pounding in his skull, it's so loud. He can barely hear himself breathe, let alone think. Is this what being human is like?

"What…?"

"Sir? Sir! Take it easy, please!"

"…Uh?" He looks up into the worried face of a pretty young woman dressed in a nurse's neutral white uniform, who reaches out to help him up with none of the fear he'd expect from a lesser hollow. Or a shinigami, or a human, when dealing with the primera espada. She's looking at him as just another of her own kind.

"Please sit down, sir. You're safe here."

"Where…" He manages to wheeze out. He follows the firm, guiding weight of her hands until he's standing on shaking legs. He can feel the blood rushing through them, the force of the air hitting them hard without a heirro to protect him. It's all _wrong._

"You're at Kamino General Hospital." The nurse hastens to reassure him. "The police found you after an explosion in the next district and brought you here for care. Unfortunately, you had no identification on you, so we had no way to contact your family."

Starrk says nothing.

The nurse tries a more direct tack. "My name is Nurse Zan, Sir. What's yours?"

"I'm…Starrk." He mutters. "No…family." Lilynette's face flashes before his eye, causing a momentary stab of grief. "Not…anymore."

"Oh. I'm…sorry to hear that." Her compassionate expression is lost on Starrk, who is still focusing on just how much his human body is doing and how fragile it is. It's so complicated that it almost distracts him from the larger implications of his plight.

What happened? How is it possible? Did someone do this to him _?_ And, most importantly, _Why?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six more days!


	9. Lurking in the Darkness

**Howling at the Moon #70: Spooky Season #9 (Lurking in the Shadows)**

* * *

_Prompt : frozen with fear, shaking, trick or treat_

_Lilynette takes herself trick or treating and quickly finds out that there are big bad wolves hiding in the darkness._

* * *

"Okay, I can do this." Lilynette mutters to herself, trying to ignore the shivers racing up and down her spine. "I don't need _them._ Kids do this _all the time._ "

The young girl is walking by herself down a wooded road with massive trees arcing up over her on both sides and a single-lane road paved with cracked and faded asphalt stretching out behind and in front of her. The sky is dark overhead, with only the faintest threads of light attached to the western sky remaining of the sunset. Stars are clearly visible but the moon is just a sliver overhead and provides little light. As a result, the shadows between the trees are dark and heavy with menace.

With every step, Lilynette questions her decision to leave home alone.

It's not that she didn't _want_ company, but when she asked to go trick or treating and her foster parents freaked out and forbade her from even _trying_ it…

Well. Once they said _that_ , she _had_ to go.

None of the other foster kids wanted to go with her, but they'd been happy enough to create distractions so she wouldn't be seen sneaking out. Now she's wondering if they knew something she didn't and if they really hated her that much.

"Okay, stop it!" She snaps at herself, just to hear a friendly voice. "There's nothing out here! The town is only a couple miles away – I can do that, easy!"

Honestly, she has no idea how far away the town is on foot. It takes about five minutes to get there by car, though, so it can't be that far. Right?

Within half an hour, the sun is completely gone and she can barely see her hand in front of her face. The gap in foliage over the road reveals the sky and that's the only reason she knows she's headed in the right direction. Animals are stirring in the underbrush and she can hear the whispers and rustles of them scurrying around. Nothing too big but they make her jump when they get too close. Her desire to talk is completely gone; now, it feels like she'll put herself in danger if she makes any noise at all.

Her costume – cheap plastic ears perched on top of her head, a faux-fur wolf-tail on a strap fastened around her waist, plastic fangs, and grey sweatpants and shirt with fur glued to the belly – fells silly and she's sweating from walking so far. At least she's wearing sneakers and not going barefoot like she'd almost chosen.

An hour later, she's panting and sorely regretting her decision. Her clothes are soaked through from sweat, she took out the fangs ages ago, and her feet hurt. It _must_ be over two miles now and there's still no sign of the town, not even a glow on the horizon. Did she get turned around somewhere? She can't remember if there are any turns in the road, any way she could have gotten lost.

It's a single road in the middle of nowhere! How could she get lost?!

It's about then that the wolves start howling.

_Aaaaaaoooooohhh…._

Lilynette freezes mid-step and feels her blood run cold.

Another wolf takes up the howl.

_Aaaaooooooooooooooooohhhh…_

She didn't know there were _wolves_ out here.

She debates with herself for a few minutes, just standing there. She doesn't really want to go trick or treating anymore, especially not if she'll have to walk all the way back in the dark, but her pride stings at the thought of turning around. If she can even find her way back.

Uneasiness curls in her gut.

_Aaaaaaaooooooohhh…_

They're getting closer. She shivers, swallows, and decides to swallow her pride. But when she turns around, she doesn't see the road. In the darkness, it's hard to tell, but suddenly she realizes the ground isn't as hard underfoot as it should be and her surroundings are darker than they were before.

Did she wander off the road at some point?

Now well and truly panicked, Lilynette stumble-runs back the way she thinks she came, hoping the road will only be a few steps away, but the forest around her gets darker and the stars more difficult to see, the tree limbs growing closer together, and the howling gets louder.

Should she turn around? If the tree branches are closer together _here_ , does that mean she should be going the other way? But she knows she didn't come from _that_ direction!

Before she knows it, Lilynette is racing pell-mell through the night-time forest, completely turned around and confused.

**_Aaaaaaaooooooohhhh…_ **

The howl is _right on top of her._

Lilynette screeches in terror and lunges forwards accidentally smacking into a low-hanging tree-limb and falling down the embankment on the other side. She tumbles in a ball towards the bottom as twigs and brambles snatch at her hair and clothes and the unforgiving hard ground thumps against her body with every turn.

Finally, when she reaches the bottom, there's silence. No more howling, no more animals, nothing.

Lilynette had squeezed her eyes closed at some point and she squints them open warily. When nothing happens, she opens them fully and, to her surprised relief, there's a little bit of light surrounding her. A glance upwards reveals a gap in the trees, just like the one over the road.

Finally! She found it!

She jumps up, elated, and whirls around…only to stop dead. All of the blood drains from her face.

It's not the road. It's a circular clearing surrounded by trees. At the very center, there's a hill with something made of carved stone sticking out of the ground – it looks a bit like a cross. And all around clearing, ringed around the hill and staring at Lilynette with glowing red eyes, are _ghost wolves._ She can see the trees through them but their misty blue forms are clearly distinct. On the hill, at the apex, a man is sitting, dressed in fur…but his eyes are reflecting moonlight back at her like a _real_ wolf and when he cocks his head, it's a canine movement, not a human one.

Lilynette swallows, hard. Once, someone told her you should never run from a wolf because then it will think you're prey. She doesn't know if that's true, she can't even remember who said it, but she feels like her feet are stuck in place so she doesn't even try. Suddenly, her wolf costume feels silly and she hopes the guy won't be offended.

After a long moment of staring, the man stands up, never taking his eyes off of hers. The fur moves with him and she's not as shocked as she should be to realize it's a part of him; he's partly transformed into a wolf. And he's _still_ transforming – even as she watches, his teeth grow sharper and his fur grows longer. All of the ghosts turn to look at him as he moves but he doesn't acknowledge them. Instead, he nods at Lilynette.

"Hey, Kid. What are you doing here?"

For once, Lilynette finds herself at a loss for words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your comments, everyone! I hope you liked the chapter!


	10. Carving Tombstones

**Howling at the Moon #71: Spooky Season #10 (Carving Tombstones)**

* * *

_Prompt : carved, cemetery, spooked_

Starrk is a tombstone engraver, an occupation that sometimes creeps out his younger sister Lilynette.

* * *

" _Here Lies Dale Harris, R.I.P."_

"…"

"Wow, Starrk. That's kinda…boring."

There's a beleaguered sigh and the clinking of tools being moved around.

"What would you have me write instead, Lily?"

"I dunno…something _exciting!_ When I die, I want people to _remember_ me! I want it to be huge and awesome-looking and have, like, _lots_ to say about me!"

"…That sort of thing is usually saved for the funeral."

Coyote Starrk steps out of his workshop, stripping off his heavy gloves and taking the opportunity to stretch his shoulders and back. It gives a satisfying pop and he sighs in relief. Behind him, the room is bathed in cool shadow and the furnishings are minimal: Just a plain wooden floor, a single heavy-duty workbench, and half a dozen slabs of grey stone of varying sizes, some with carvings sketched out and others still blank. The young man looks older than his twenty-four years and moves like he's triple that. He slumps down on a bench next to the door and raises his face to the bright autumn sun.

There's scuffling inside and then a young girl pops out, face twisted in an irritated expression. Lilynette Gingerbuck is Starrk's younger half-sister, but they look nothing like each other. She's about half his age and far more energetic. She also hasn't been working hard all day, so perhaps that's understandable.

"Hey! I wasn't done talking to you!"

"We can talk outside." He mumbles. "I need a break."

"You _always_ seem to be taking a break." She grumbles but sprawls out on the grass in front of him. "So, why did you choose _that_ for the stone?"

"It's traditional, isn't it?"

"I dunno…Is it?"

Starrk shrugs and glances at the plaque stationed over the door. It reads:

**Tombstone Engravings: Inquire Within.**

He hadn't bothered to add his name to the plaque or even change the wording when he bought it from the previous owner, who'd only done tombstone engravings as a side-job. It works well enough for him.

"I guess. No one ever protests. And there won't be anyone to bother about this one, anyway; he's alone."

"…Oh." Lilynette's voice goes funny and she flips onto her back to look up at the sun. For a moment, there's a passing similarity between her and her half-brother. Her voice is distant when she continues. "He died alone?"

"…Yeah."

"That sucks."

"…Yeah."

"Then who's buying his stone? I mean, he has to have _someone_ …?

"I honestly don't know. It's paid for and there's a delivery address but no one expressed any interest beyond that."

They lapse into silence. Both of them know what it's like to be alone, and the thought of dying like that – lost and un-mourned – is a tragedy that resonates deep inside. Starrk had no one growing up and mostly forged his own way in the world, though his time at college hadn't amounted to much beyond a discovery that he enjoys working with his hands. Lilynette hadn't even known she had a brother until he moved back to the area and she'd been wary of him at first…until she realized just how alone he was and that he welcomed her presence, even if he rarely said it.

It was more than she usually had and she reveled in her brother's undivided attention. His occupation might be creepy but it was also peaceful and, in his presence, she was actually able to _breathe_ without feeling crowded and defensive. And there was something about the creepiness that made it feel edgy and _important._

…Important for Dale Harris, anyway.

At least the two of them would remember his name.

"Hey Starrk?"

"Yeah?"

"…You don't think that'll happen to us, do you?"

"What?"

"That we'll…y'know…be alone?"

He stirred and looked down at her for a long moment, blue eyes fathomless.

"…No, I don't think so."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. We've got each other, right?"

"…Right. Always?"

"Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. This challenge is getting harder. Most of my Halloween inspiration has dried up by now.
> 
> Four days left!
> 
> Thanks to all of my readers and reviewers!


	11. Where's the Wolf?

**Howling at the Moon #72: Spooky Season #11 (Where's the Wolf?)**

* * *

_Prompt : ghost story, unearthly, werewolf_

_Ichigo and his friends discover that (a) werewolves are a thing and (b) they're much closer than anyone knew. Starrk's just surprised that_ they _are surprised._

* * *

"Wait, _what_ did you say?" Ichigo's yelp is a squawk and Starrk just shrugs and yawns.

"I said, that makes sense?"

"No, _before_ that."

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"No, _after_ that."

"…I'm a werewolf?"

"…Yeah. _That."_

The tone of the younger man's voice is enough to finally drag Starrk's attention away from the mug of hot chocolate he's absentmindedly swirling. It's too sweet for him, but they don't have any coffee left so it's chocolate or nothing until they return to civilization tomorrow. He sets it aside without protest and cocks his head at Ichigo in question.

"I believe what Kurosaki means to say, is that that is a very bad joke, given the circumstances." Uryu adds while Ichigo's still gaping like a fish. His skeptical glare seems to reassure Ichigo…and Chad and Orihime who are sitting behind them and leaning out to look at Starrk with wide eyes.

"What joke?" Starrk finally grumbles. It's not like he's keeping it a _secret_. The whole area is claimed by were-creatures of varying shapes and sizes. Wolves might not be common, but it's not as strange as their expressions make it out to be. "I'm a werewolf. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Dude, we were just telling stories." Ichigo tries again. "I mean…werewolves aren't _real._ "

"Um!" Orihime cuts in, voice high and nervous. "Actually, I think maybe they are…?"

"Ridiculous. We would _know_ if there were werewolves among us." It's Uryu who tries to be the voice of reason again. "Especially _you._ You've been with us for a week – we'd _know._ "

…His tone is far too accusing for someone who thinks the situation is a joke.

Starrk rolls his eyes and cracks his neck. "It's not exactly a secret, kids."

"We're not kids!" Ichigo and Uryu squawk in unison, making Orihime giggle. Now that the initial shock has worn off, she looks the most relaxed out of the four teenagers. More relaxed than she's been the entire hiking trip, actually.

"Were-coyotes are real." Is Chad's first addition to the conversation, said with such conviction that even Uryu draws back.

"But…that's not…"

"Yup." Starrk yawns again and stands up, stretching. He tries not to notice how the kids flinch away from his actions now. He thought they already knew what he was. "There are lots of were-creatures out in the woods. "He raises an eyebrow at Ichigo, and then at Uryu who glances away with shifty eyes. _Dishonest_ eyes.

Clearly he doesn't know just how good a werewolf's sense of smell is.

Looking hard at Uryu, Starrk makes a show of huffing and speaking clearly. "Some of them can even fly."

The kid -the _Quincy_ \- goes dead-white and instantly shuts up.

"But…but…how can all of you be so calm?!" Ichigo practically wails. "That's not possible! This has got to be a joke!"

"Um." Orihime squeaks. "I think my dad was a were-snake?"

"… _What?"_

"I mean, I didn't know him very well, he was a bad man and Sora took me away when I was little, but I think so?"

Before the orange-haired boy can figure out how he's supposed to respond to _that_ , Chad nods serenely.

"In Mexico, there was a man who could become a rattlesnake. And a thief who became a coyote to steal lambs. The farmers shot him, as a man."

This time, it's Starrk's turn to recoil and he frowns in disgust. At least Chad doesn't seem happy about it; he seems disapproving. That's a step up from most humans in his position, in Starrk's experience.

"So…So werewolves are a thing? A _real_ thing?" Ichigo looks on the verge of losing it, but that's not enough to pacify Starrk, who instantly frowns.

"We're real _people_ , yes." His voice is heavy with disapproval. When Ichigo stammers an apology, he waves it off and turns away from their small campsite. "I'm going for a walk. Don't worry, I'll be back by morning."

With a thought and metaphysical push, he's on four paws instead of two legs. Ignoring the new surge of chaos behind him, he darts off into the undergrowth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you were wondering, Uryu is a were-falcon and he's lived his entire life believing it's a shameful secret.
> 
> ...And yes, I gave into temptation on the stupid title. I just couldn't resist.


	12. Ghost Stories

**Howling at the Moon #73: Spooky Season #12 (Ghost Stories)**

* * *

_Prompt : graveyard, cursed, spell_

_A cursed graveyard traps the souls of everyone buried within and, on Halloween, they are summoned into physical form by a necromancer's spell._

* * *

The graveyard is a small, decrepit plot of space. A single acre, overgrown, choked with weeds, and surrounded by what was once a wrought iron fence but is now a mis-matched collection of broken, bent, and weathered metal bars strewn all around the area. Many have been stolen and others buried, consumed by the grounds they'd once protected. What few tombstones remain are unmarked chunks of rock worn smooth by the sands of time and half-sunk into the ground.

Once, it was bigger, better maintained, and located right on the outskirts of the nearest small town. It wasn't exactly well regarded; only the poor and the unwanted were buried in its grounds; but for years it was a subject of pity rather than ridicule or fear.

Then the unthinkable happened.

One night at the height of summer, a trio of teenagers snuck into the silent graveyard to smoke and drink away from the prying eyes of their parents.

In the morning, the groundskeeper found what was left of them strewn across the grounds. They were barely recognizable and it took days for the police to gather and remove their remains. There was no sign of what, exactly, had happened; the bodies were in too mutilated a state to even know what killed them; but it was clear _someone_ or _something_ lurked in the graveyard.

After that, the town drew away from the graveyard. It was already on the outskirts, but the few people that lived close to its walls moved away, claiming they could hear the screams of the dying teens on the breeze and that foul spirits haunted their homes. Exactly six months after the murders, on the winter solstice, the entire town could hear the sounds moaning in the cold wind. The malicious aura that came to define the graveyard seeped outwards until there was a circular area bigger than a mile that the townspeople refused to enter and instead left for nature to reclaim.

Now, a century later, the graveyard is all alone. The town has relocated, for the most part, and forgotten the awful deeds that happened within its barred walls and the hauntings that came after.

However, those inside the graveyard have never forgotten.

* * *

"Starrk, C'mon! It's _Halloween!_ "

"I'm coming, Lily."

Starrk grumbles, turning over in the confines of his grave and trying to bury his ghostly head beneath his arms. It's a poorly thought out move because it instantly brings him face to face with the empty eye sockets and grinning jaw that one belonged to his skull. The dirty white bone is enough to make him recoil with a grunt of disgust and phase out of the ground that's pressing down on – and through – him.

"There you are!" Lilynette yips and ambushes him from behind. He allows himself to be caught instead of phasing through her and his hands automatically come to rest on her shoulders. They're cold, insubstantial, and half translucent, but he can touch her as easily as if she were flesh and blood. His hands are the same half-there shade of blue as her body and when he squints, he can see the scrubby grass through them.

"Yep. Here I am." His words are completely monotone as he looks up at the dark night sky and around at the rest of the graveyard. There are other faint figures crawling out of the ground, some of them lunging towards and away from each other aggressively and others listlessly wandering the area, paying no notice to the tall weeds and iron spikes that pass through their insubstantial bodies. The sky overhead is dark with only a sliver of a crescent moon shining down on them, but the stars are shining brightly and the sky is clear of clouds. It would be a pretty night, if not for the ghosts.

"Are you paying attention to me?!" Lilynette howls then reels back and punches him in the arm, _hard_ , and Starrk looks down at her with a raised eyebrow.

She's…well. She's in once piece, mostly. Her head's…not as gory as it could be, given how she died, and her eyes are bright and alert, glowing in the dark. In life, she'd been an orphaned eleven-year-old girl who was struck and killed by a speeding carriage late one night. With no one to pay her burial fees, she'd been placed in the cursed graveyard along with the rest of the misfits.

Starrk's been in the graveyard much longer than Lilynette; he was actually one of the first people interred, though he doesn't look it. He'd gotten on the wrong side of a bar fight and taken a shot to save his life…only to find that the man he killed in self-defense was well-connected in the community. Starrk had been shot by a bystander before he could even defend himself and few mourned his passing. His chest is still a mess where the bullet exited his body, but it's faded and blue just like every other part of him, so that diminishes the horror.

Lilynette doesn't even look at it, just glares at him irritably.

"C'mon, Starrk! It doesn't take _that_ long to wake up. Especially tonight!"

"Halloween, you said?" He grumbles but nods at her to lead and she takes off through the weeds like a jackrabbit. He follows at a slightly more sedate pace as she yells back.

"Yeah! And there are _people_ here!"

"…What?" In two steps and a phasing of energy, Starrk is at her side. "What do you mean, _'people'?_ "

"There!"

She points down towards what was once the gate to the cemetery and Starrk's eyes widen in surprise. There are indeed three flesh and blood people there, all men and all wearing dark robes. On the ground in front of them, there's a circle drawn in something that smells foul and a board covered in printed letters. There's something about them, about the whole setup, that feels…familiar.

Starrk was just an immaterial spirit, resting in peace, when those kids were killed on the cemetery grounds, but the innocent blood spilled over his grave had called him back. He'd heard the last of them fall, felt the dark magic take hold of the cemetery, and seen what was left when the moon was still high in the sky, before the living humans arrived. He didn't know exactly what happened, but he knew down to his bones what it felt like.

These three humans remind him of that night. When the first man sets a third device, a little arrow-shaped planchet with a window in the center, on top of the board, Starrk's very being vibrates in warning.

Before he can herd Lilynette back the way they came, the man in the middle steps up to the board, the hem of his robe just touching the edge of the circle, and calls out, voice ringing as clear as a bell through the grounds.

"Hello. My name is Sosuke Aizen. Are there any restless spirits here?"

Driven by a compulsion he does not understand, Starrk is forced to step forward rather than away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh. Not so happy with this one, either. Maybe because my inspiration just wasn't there.
> 
> Anyhow...
> 
> two days left!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's read, commented, and left kudos!


	13. Witch Light

**Howling at the Moon #74: Spooky Season #13 (Witch Light)**

* * *

_Prompt : jack o lantern, wizard, dark_

_The eerie flickering of a jack-o-lantern's candle bears a remarkable resemblance to an imprisoned soul._

* * *

"Whatcha got there, Boss?"

Aizen turns to smile at Gin, an expression that instantly freezes his second in command in his tracks. The silver-haired man takes a cautious step backwards and his smile dims slightly.

"Sorry. Am I interruptin'?"

"…Not at all." The captain smoothly turns back to what he's doing, lifting a tiny orb of bright purple light out of a crystal. It shouldn't work; his hands are flesh and blood and the little glowing dot is _light_ …but it rests between his palms like a physical object.

"Oh." Gin cranes his neck to see but doesn't step any closer. "Caught another one, huh?"

"…Not exactly." Aizen eyes Gin speculatively, then softens his body language and gestures him forwards. Cautiously, the other man edges forward to look. "This is Wonderweiss."

"…Huh." Continued silence from the older captain makes it clear a response is expected, so Gin scratches his head and shrugs. He's done weirder things than talk to little balls of light. "Heya Wonderweiss. Welcome to the team."

"Indeed."

That seems to be enough, as Aizen loses interest in Gin and turns back to his work. 'Wonderweiss' flickers, seeming to grow in size for a moment, before its captor frowns and twitches his fingers into a more regular lattice. Then it goes still and calm again.

"You got that one trained real good." Gin observes.

"Hm." The answer is absent-minded. "He's not truly awake yet."

"He's not really one of us, either." A new, unexpected voice interjects and both men go rigid. Gin's hand goes to the hilt of his silver dagger and Aizen's movements become almost fluid, graceful as a dancer…or a swordsman…as he turns around.

"Why, Starrk. To what do I owe the pleasure?" The older man purrs. His own silver dagger is not in sight but all of them know it must be close at hand.

In the doorway stands a man with long brown hair and a faded goatee, glowing faintly blue. His clothes are white but don't seem to move quite right, as if they're made of liquid rather than cloth, and his eyes are slitted like a snake rather than round like a human. In the exposed V of skin between his neck and sternum, a row of dagger-sharp teeth can be seen right above an ugly black burn.

"I felt him." The newcomer growls and slinks into the room, movements feral. "There's another fey here, but he's new. You didn't catch him; you _made_ him."

Across the room, Gin catches his breath in shock. That should be impossible.

Aizen's smile widens slightly. "Yes. So?"

That takes Starrk by surprise. "So? So, why? Why did you make him, and if you _can_ make us, why did you catch so many of us?"

"Ah, I see the problem." The human relaxes and turns back to his bench. In a few quick, sure moves, he has Wonderweiss tucked away in a locked glass jar, then he turns back to Starrk. He doesn't flinch when he finds out the fey has moved even closer in his moment of inattention, and he looks even less human up close. Instead, Aizen offers a comforting smile. "Do not worry, Starrk. I have no intention of violating my bargain or my claim. I have no intention of making more than Wonderweiss and he will not take your place, or those of your…friends."

Starrk's eyes narrow, but he seems to be at a loss for words.

"Now, I think it's time for you to return to your place, don't you?"

In response to the words, the burn on Starrk's chest momentarily glows white-hot, and the fey grimaces in pain, taking a step away. It's surrender and Aizen knows it.

"…Fine." Between one step and the next Starrk has transformed into a ball of blue light, similar to Wonderweiss but many times bigger and brighter. And faster. In a blink, the light is gone, zooming away too fast to see.

After a few seconds, Gin turns to follow and returns almost immediately.

"Well?" Aizen's tone is sharper than before, his only acknowledgement of how dangerous the situation had been, and Gin notes it silently before reporting.

"He's back in his jar, just like the others. Ten little jars, ten little jack-o-lanterns, all the colors of the rainbow."

The remaining tension falls from Aizen's frame as he nods. "An organic prison and an inorganic one, to keep a fey contained and complicit. Traditionally, the organic would be bone and the inorganic would be silver but those can be so hard to come by these days." He glances out the window at the nondescript urban neighborhood outside, nearly every house decorated with multiple glowing carved pumpkins and little glass lights that wink and shimmer in the darkness. "And when I'm offered such a perfect solution, who am I to say no?"

Gin snickers. "The others are _never_ gonna find you if you keep doin' shit like this."

A slow, cold smirk spreads over Aizen's face.

_"Exactly."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's left kudos and comments! One day left until Halloween!


	14. Happy Halloween!

**Howling at the Moon #75: Spooky Season #14 (Happy Halloween!)**

* * *

_Prompt : jack o lantern, lurking, vampire_

_A cursed scarecrow lurks in the shadows of his cornfield and has a surprise run-in with a fledgling vampire._

* * *

"Caw, caw! Caw, caw!"

Starrk wakes up to the unpleasant sensation of a large black beak poking him in the side of his head.

"Hey, stop it." He grumbles, waving one gloved hand absently over his head. The crow takes off in a flurry of black feathers and panicked croaking.

Starrk grumbles and tilts his head back, waiting until the fey light flickering in his empty sockets evens out and he's fully settled in his normally-inert body. It's not that he _minds_ sleeping all day, that's part of the curse, after all, but he wishes he had some idea what happened to him while he was asleep when he wakes up. Take now, for example. When he shifts to jump down off his post, there's something surprisingly heavy in place of his normal head and he takes an ungainly tumble instead of the graceful hop he was anticipating.

He grunts irritably and sits up, using straw-stuffed hands to feel the dimensions of his new 'head'. He finds smooth roundness topped by a short, hard stem with rough triangles carved for sockets and a grimacing slash carved for a mouth. Without looking, he knows the fey-light of his cursed soul is visible through the carved openings.

A jack-o-lantern. Huh. Must be close to Halloween.

After a moment, Starrk shrugs and stands up. It can't be any worse than being cursed to inhabit a scarecrow when the sun goes down. With that in mind, he ambles slowly further into the cornfield. The rest of him works okay; the metal and wood structure that acts as his bones is intact, the clothes have a few more holes in them from the crows but are otherwise the same, and the straw hasn't changed at all.

He doesn't really have anywhere to go; there's no one waiting of him and he's not looking for anyone. He could try to escape, but he's tried that multiple times and no matter how far he runs (even if he hitches a ride in a passing truck or train), he's always back in place the next night. It's not worth trying again. And the cornfield isn't so bad; it's a hundred acres right on the edge of a city, an island of calm right next to a source of chaos

It's just…boring. He's been here for at least six months and nothing's happened. He doesn't even know who did this to him – all he got was a note the first night he woke up, telling him to 'sit tight!'. If he remembered anything about himself or his past before being cursed, he'd probably be a lot more upset and worried.

Instead, he's just wandering aimlessly through the corn. A rat pauses next to a stalk and stares him down with beady little black eyes and two bats swoop low overhead, chittering their love songs to each other for the world to hear. He hopes they don't have a run in with the barn owls on the other side of the field; that would cut their love story short.

The nocturnal animals don't seem to know what to think of him, an oddly moving inanimate object with glowing eyes, but he doesn't bother them so they return the favor.

It's a typical quiet night until Starrk reaches the border of the field closest to the road and hears something he hasn't heard since waking up: a human voice.

It's cursing up a blue streak and complaining to…no one?

"God fucking _damnit!_ Why do _I_ have to be the one cursed to be a kid? What a fucking _joke._ I'm probably older than him! And he's got the nerve to say _I'm_ a handful? I'll show him a handful! The next time I see him, I'm going to tell him to shove it so far up his-."

Starrk easily scales the fences and drops down on the other side into the weeds, taking note of a small shadowy figure a few yards away. The glow from his eyes illuminates the scene: it's a young girl with green hair, wearing black clothes and glaring down the road as she yells.

Starrk interrupts her when it becomes clear she isn't going to notice him or say anything constructive.

"I don't think that will convince him."

"Who the _fu-_ " She whirls, fury on her face that shifts to panicked shock with comical speed. "What the _fuck?!_ "

She jumps a good ten feet in the air – _not_ an exaggeration – and _stays there._ Her mouth opens to bare small, needle-sharp fangs and she hisses at Starrk like an angry teakettle.

"Huh." He eyes her with interest, guessing the implication of her fangs. "I thought vampires could turn into bats?"

"We can! I just…can't…yet…." She drifts down a foot but not within his reach. "What the fuck _are_ you?"

Starrk shrugs. "I scarecrow, I guess. For now." He cocks his head. "So you're really a vampire?"

"Uh, _yeah?_ Didn't you see my _fangs?_ " She bares them as clearly as she can, trying to make them look more impressive. "And what do you mean ' _for now'?_ "

"I wasn't always like this." He replies, turning back to scale the fence again. This time, he pauses at the top and sits down to look at her. After a moment, she drifts over to stand on top of the nearest fencepost, eyeing him closely like she can't quite decide what to make of him.

"….Yeah?" She prompts.

He shrugs again. "I woke up this way. Maybe I'm dead?"

He's already worried about it enough; there's no emotion left to put in the words and that clearly makes an impression. She shifts with discomfort then sits down in a mirrored pose to his. She's a good foot and a half smaller, it turns out.

"Oh. That sucks, I guess."

"Eh. I'm dealing with it." He tilts his head at her. "But I've never seen you here before. Where'd you come from?"

She seizes on the subject change with relief and a scowl. "The city. My sire dumped me here; said I needed to learn to fend for myself or let the sun take me. I don't know what _his_ problem is – I'm a perfectly good vampire! Even if I can't find people to eat. I'm gonna find that guy and show _him_ just who's the better vampire!"

She smacks one small fist into the other with an unimpressive little ' _thwack!'_.

"…Good luck." Starrk looks up at the sky and sighs. He's been wandering the field all night and now the horizon is starting to lighten. He tips back and falls off the fence, landing easily on his feet and calling over his shoulder. "I need to get back before dawn. Nice meeting you."

"Wait!" Her nearly-panicked yell halts his footsteps and he turns to look, cocking his head in question. "I…uh…Can I come with you?"

She drops down next to him as he blinks in surprise.

"…What?"

"You, uh, you know that thing about vampires and sunrise? It's…not really a problem for old vampires but I'm not…well…I guess that's why he left me here." Her words shift into a snarl halfway through and Starrk picks up on her meaning right away. Her sire hadn't left her to make her own way in the world; he'd left her to _die._ The scarecrow's jagged mouth pulls down at the edges.

"I won't be awake." He tells her gruffly. "I'll just be a scarecrow during the day." As her face falls and the fear grows, he considers her plight and slowly continues. "But this field is attached to a farm…maybe you can find somewhere to hide there?"

"Great!" She pounces on the offering. "Where?!"

He gestures to the west, further into the field. "Around the center."

"Thanks!" With a last panicked look at the lightening sky she turns and zooms away, vampiric speed carrying her faster than Starrk can run. Her final words filter back on the breeze. "I'll see you tomorrow night!"

"…You too." He mumbles, but apparently her sense of hearing is enhanced, as she waves one hand in acknowledgement before she's out of sight.

This time, Starrk ambles back to his post without interference.

As the sun rises past the horizon and he falls asleep, he actually finds himself looking forward to the next time he opens his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All that's left now is the finale!
> 
> Happy Halloween, everyone!


	15. Special Preview

**Howling at the Moon #76: Spooky Season (Special Preview)**

* * *

_As promised, here's the special finale to my Spooky Season challenge! A special look at six of the works in progress in my notebook, including a glimpse at the next chapters of Turnabout and Five Years._

* * *

**#1. Alternate Opponents in the Winter War**

Shunsui watched the three espada with calculating eyes while explosions resounded in the distance from the defense of the pillars. He knew it was only a matter of time before the more powerful hollows joined the battle; in fact, he was surprised they were willing to wait this long. When they made their move, the remaining captains would need to pair off against them quickly into the matches most likely to favor a shinigami victory.

It was difficult to gauge the power levels and ranks of their opponents; based solely on human and shinigami behavior patterns, the older male acted like their leader. He was the biggest, most experienced, had the most subordinates who were the best trained, and was obviously used to being obeyed. Following that trend, the female had the second most fraccion who obviously respected her greatly and an implacable manner, while the younger male only had one subordinate who physically abused him without reprimand. He'd made no attempt to conceal his shock and awe at Yama-jii's attack on Aizen and his fraccion treated him with very little respect.

Using those traits as measurements, the old hollow was primera, the female was segunda, and the younger male was tercera.

However, when Aizen was walled off and the old hollow took control, he first looked to the younger male. He hadn't asked permission per say, but he'd expected a legitimate challenge to his assertion of dominance and he'd completely dismissed the female. None of his comrades had found that strange. That automatically bumped her down to tercera and put the males at comparative power levels. From there, it became a matter of interpretation. Had the older male been asking for permission, or flaunting his power? Was the younger male conceding to a superior, or indulging a subordinate? Did they even follow the ranks Aizen had bestowed, or was there some other deciding factor for hollows?

Personally, Shunsui wanted to face off against the younger male. He seemed like he'd be more fun and a better foil to Shunsui's personality. But what he wanted wasn't the issue; what would be best for the shinigami? As the oldest of the captains present (other than Yama-jii) and the strongest, it was Shunsui's responsibility to take on the biggest threat.

He puzzled over the matter silently, eyes flicking between the two espada and weighing everything he knew about them. He debated the matter all the way up until Yama-jii ordered them to fight. He gave one last, wistful glance at the more easy-going opponent before setting himself in front of the more intimidating foe with Jushiro at his back. Barragan Lieusenbarn glowered back at him, unamused and contemptuous of the _insects_ who dared challenge the god-king of Hueco Mundo.  
-

Starrk stared down at the small female captain, already weary of this entire situation. He didn't want to be here, didn't want to fight, and definitely didn't want to kill. This did not appear to be a sentiment the shinigami shared; her expression was downright vicious and she was glaring at him with cold hatred and disapproval. Still, he might as well try...

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to take it easy?"

"What?" She snapped, brandishing the stinger-shaped zanpakuto menacingly.

"I'm not really one for fighting..." He grumbled, obviously reluctant to respond to her aggression. "Why don't we just pretend?"

The shinigami sneered in contempt. "Once I kill you, _coward_ , you can rest forever."

"I thought you might say that." Starrk sighed deeply. With a slow _*schiing*_ Los Lobos was freed from its sheath and the arrancar stood at loose attention with his sword held in a low defensive position, ready to respond but not making the slightest attempt to attack.

Soifon smirked, anticipating an easy victory. Using every ounce of her considerable skill with shunpo, she darted forward, Suzumebachi extended to sting. She was so fast that in the background, Omaeda shouted in surprise and awe as she blurred to within a foot of the espada and lunged. Not even Yoruichi-sama would be able to dodge THAT!

Her strike met empty air.

"You're pretty fast."

The voice was directly behind her. Without pausing to curse or register her shock, the captain of the second division pivoted and drove her stinger into his torso, only for him to lean easily out of the way. As he dodged, she compensated, her strike swerving up towards his stomach, slashing across his throat, down from shoulder to hip, back to his chest...Each thrust was deadly and as fast as she'd ever fought before. Not a single hit made contact. Insultingly, he didn't even bother to parry with his sword or to reciprocate. He just dodged and wove, evading her with apparent ease, even at her fastest shunpo in close quarters.

Humiliated, she snarled and darted high, driving down at his back from above, only to flash beneath and forward at the last millisecond and strike at his chest from below. He should not have had enough time to turn his head, let alone move, but he did. Soifon's shikai was halted by the arrancar's zanpakuto, drawn to parry supernaturally fast. She stared into his eyes from inches away, shocked and angry as her stinger-adorned hand strained ineffectually against his thin blade. But as she met his indifferent, unintimidated, almost bored expression, she felt a fission of unease. He'd just blocked the fastest, most intense attacks her shikai could deliver without the slightest sign of effort.

His sword twisted forward, deflected her shikai away from his body, and made a half-hearted slash at her neck, forcing her to dodge and jump away.

"Is that it?" He sounded eminently unimpressed.

She snarled, but her confidence and bravado had taken a hit, leaving her wary and grim. This would not be the easy win she'd expected.

* * *

**#2. Human Vengeance**

Starrk easily slipped past and through the bars separating him from Kyoraku, his spiritual form unbound by their physical barrier.

Just inside, he paused, waiting for an acknowledgment of some sort. When it didn't come, he frowned and knocked lightly on the wall next to him, right inside of the warning notice.

Shunsui's head snapped up at the unexpected sound, wide brown eyes instantly landing on the espada. The relaxation was just for show – there was no sign of lethargy in his reaction. His lifted face revealed another restraint – a gag hiding the entire lower half of his face. For a moment, there was no recognition in his expression for his old enemy but understanding quickly dawned.

Starrk took a startled step back at the speed of the response but then cocked his head and made a low, contemplative sound when the restraints held. He sauntered forward, eyeing the helpless shinigami with interest.

For his part, Shunsui canted his head forward, narrowing his eyes at the realization of the espada's identity. It had been decades since he'd thought about arrancar and he'd assumed Starrk died from his injuries during the final battle of the Winter War. His hair flopped forwards over his shoulder, obscuring his gaze and he huffed through his nose, shaking his head to flip it back in a practiced motion. He saw the sandaled feet of his enemy come softly to a stop right beyond his bound feet and looked up again slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll confess, Taicho-san, when I decided to come looking for revenge, this wasn't what I expected."

Shunsui's expression remained fixed at the declaration of intent, though his hands slowly flexed against their restraints, searching for power that refused to come to his call. He knew he was helpless. Wistfully, he thought back to his hat. And while he was wishing for impossible things, he'd like his zanpakuto back as well.

Starrk sighed and paced a few steps to the right, then back to the left, wandering around the barren square of a room. There was nothing other than the shinigami inside – just four bare metal walls with small reflective 'eyes' in the corners – observation cameras. It wasn't worth exploring. After a moment, he grumbled irritably.

"What _is_ this?" The look he fixed on Kyoraku was suspicious and demanding. "Shinigami didn't do this."

Amusement touched his enemy's expression. Any other hollow would have instantly attacked and ripped Kyoraku to shreds in his weakness. Despite the long years since their only meeting, he vaguely remembered Starrk's personality and his intelligence. The faint hint of an idea sparked into existence in the back of his mind.

Even if it came to nothing, he hadn't spoken to anyone in far too long. Even Starrk's company could be a welcome change…if he gave up his plan for revenge, of course.

Kyoraku tilted his head to tap his gag against his shoulder and raise his eyebrows in an obvious request.

Starrk frowned, torn. He didn't want to help the other man, but he _did_ want answers.

And vengeance. He couldn't let that slip his mind, though he was more interested in other things at the moment.

Faint amusement touched his eyes as he tilted his head towards the warning sign on the other side of the bars.

"I don't know, Taicho-san. Apparently, you are a 'dangerous energy entity'."

Shunsui's eyes narrowed and he let out a huff that was more of a growl at the label. The expression only lasted a second before dropping into self-deprecating amusement.

"…Oh, fine." Starrk finally grunted and stepped over Shunsui's feet to stand at his side. The Shinigami tensed at their sudden proximity but Starrk didn't draw it out – he slipped one finger beneath a strap of the gag and exerted a touch of hollow strength to easily snap it apart. It fell from Shunsui's face to land in his lap, fully detached.

The Shinigami stretched his mouth gratefully, then hummed and smiled at the unfamiliar sound of his own voice. It had been way too long. He tilted his head, turning a considering look on Starrk.

"Thank you, Espada-san."

"Hn." Starrk grunted and retreated to the other side of the cell. The title was defunct without Aizen but he didn't care enough to tell his enemy that. Besides, he was still the most powerful hollow in Hueco Mundo – it was apt enough.

Some part of Shunsui was covertly amused at the obvious discomfort in Starrk's retreat, despite the arrancar's superior position. The glittering idea in his thoughts was slowly becoming more defined and he had to hide sharpening consideration from his expression as he looked over the powerful arrancar.

The powerful, _free_ arrancar.

"So." Starrk leaned against the wall across from his enemy, eyeing him critically.

Shunsui returned the look with a playful smile. "So?"

"What happened?" An eye roll was Starrk's only indication of irritation at the blatant avoidance. It would just figure that this particular shinigami liked word games.

"Ah, you know…little of this, little of that." The shinigami made a show of relaxing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

"…Right. You're here because you _want_ to be here. "Starrk's reply was dry as dust "And I'm sure those chains are a fashion statement."

"Perhaps." Amusement was thick in Kyoraku's voice.

The former espada pushed off the wall and paced to the other side of the cell to look through the bars to the hallway beyond. He sensed the tension suddenly afflicting the man behind him at the implied intention to leave but did not comment on it. Instead, he spoke quietly, not expecting a response.

"How did they even get you? You're strong and-."

"Why, thank you!"

Starrk ignored the interruption, not even looking over his shoulder.

"They obviously can't even see you." He tipped his head at the 'energy entity' sign. "Which means they have no spiritual energy of their own. And yet-." He turned to look at the reiatsu blocking collar, cuffs, and chains on Kyoraku. "-Somehow, you're here in their power."

He paced, prowling the small cell like a caged wolf. Or a hunting hollow. Shunsui stiffened despite himself.

"They can't have fought you. They must have tricked or trapped you. But what would be so-."

Realization came quickly and Starrk abruptly turned his full focus on Shunsui, wolf-bright eyes boring into the captain from far too close.

"Where is your friend, Taicho-san?"

Kyoraku's smile vanished between one blink and the next, replaced by a blank mask.

* * *

**#3: Jushiro Lost in Hueco Mundo**

Jushrio had no idea how long he laid there, but when he woke up, he was hungry, thirsty, sore, and his lungs ached abominably. However, he was alive, a remarkable feat in and of itself, and more clear-headed than he'd been since entering Hueco Mundo. For a long stretch of time he simply laid there, allowing his muscles to relax and mulling over his predicament as he pulled together his strength. Finally, he turned over…and came face to face with a leering hollow.

He scrambled back with a startled yell, somehow pulling himself to his feet and drawing his zanpakuto on instinct. But he was too slow, too stiff; it would be on him any second…!

It didn't move.

When he finally stopped, he realized that the creature wasn't moving or breathing and the eyeholes of its mask were dark and dead. It had been a long time since this hollow was alive.

He crinkled his nose as he realized he'd been sleeping pressed up against a dead hollow, but the thought fled him entirely when his eyes wandered to the massive piles of corpses now mere meters away. From the base of the dune near the bottom of the first pile, he could see the closest one clearly and he could really appreciate the sheer size of the morbid monuments.

Each one had to contain hundreds of adjuchas, powerful ones of small size, and their cracked masks stared back at Jushiro, as empty and grinning as human skulls. The light of the moon painted them in stark shadows, giving them the illusion of shifting movement. The bodies themselves were stacked haphazardly, stable from long years of settling but he could see smaller piles clustered around the base where there had been 'avalanches' at some point in the distant past and the entire valley was littered with mask fragments that must have been blown astray by the wind.

The sight of it raised the hair on Jushiro's neck and despite the fact that it was apparently safe enough for him to survive a long lapse of consciousness at this exact spot, he kept his zanpakuto free. The situation was in no way natural; someone had done that to the bodies and the hollows, had considered this appropriate for some reason. Whoever it was must have kept roving hollows away as well; had they been able, they would have attacked the grisly feast like the power-hungry monsters they were.

Jushiro knew of no being; human, shinigami, or hollow; strong enough to do such a thing.

He edged his way carefully around the first, largest pile, eyeing it warily but keeping most of his attention on the bone shards around his feet, each one capable of crippling him if he so much as stumbled. He'd nearly made his way to the second pile by the time he looked up, scanning the empty masks and skulls, and stared straight into a pair of glowing blue eyes.

With a startled shout, he leapt backwards, bringing his sword to bear and nearly severing his right foot when it landed next to a hollow jawbone. The creature did not move and he stared at it in incomprehension; the faded light of the moon washed everything in shades of white and black and the man's face appeared unnaturally pale in its light with dark shadows cast around his eye sockets, mouth, and chest, painting him to resemble the dead creatures he was sitting amongst. But the light also gleamed on long human hair and smooth skin, not bone. The rest of his body was concealed by a thin wrap of dark fabric, worn ragged by time and the elements.

His eyes, gleaming animal-bright in the scant light, were most definitely those of a hollow.

"What…" Jushiro's voice cracked, dry throat complaining. "Did you kill…?" Not that he knew how to frame his questions.

"No." The voice was raspy with disuse, but otherwise completely apathetic. "They just died."

Jushiro's sword wavered and he frowned deeply, trying to parse the meaning. They couldn't have just keeled over without cause…

"You should leave." The strange hollow continued, a note of tired bitterness creeping into his voice. "Or you'll die too."

There was a limited number of ways for a hollow to make a person 'just die'; some sort of airborne poison or energy attack was most likely and, with a sickening lurch, Jushiro realized he might already be affected. Had it been too late by the time he passed the first bodies? Was his collapse attributable to something other than fatigue? Although the hollow seemed to be warning him away…perhaps he still had time…

"Do you secrete some sort of poison?" Jushiro asked, somehow managing to keep his voice calm. He began to inch backwards but bit back a cry of pain when a fragment of bone pierced the side of his foot.

"No. I'm too strong." His eyes flicked to Jushiro's foot. "You're bleeding."

"I noticed." Jushiro gritted out. The wound was not deep but it was painful and slashed across the arch of his right foot. Even at home, where he could have gotten it healed instantly, he likely would have kept his weight off of it for at least a day. Here, it was a debilitating weakness; walking would be difficult and the scent of his blood would draw hollows for miles, like sharks to chum. In fact, the one he was currently facing looked a bit more alert now and was sniffing the air with interest.

Jushiro grimaced, but before he could find a way to retreat, the hollow spoke again.

"You're different."

"Am I? Different from what?"

"Everyone." A bare human hand freed itself from the confines of his cloak and waved dispassionately at the bodies around them. "You're not a hollow." He scrutinized Jushiro with increasing interest. "What are you?"

Startled (what sort of hollow couldn't recognize a shinigami?) he responded instinctively. "I am Jushiro Ukitake, taicho of the thirteenth division of the Gotei 13."

"A shinigami." The hollow said the word slowly, as if tasting it, then frowned. "Your kind kills hollows."

"Ah…" Abruptly, Jushiro realized he probably should have lied rather than claim to be an enemy, considering his situation. "That is, when it is necessary, shinigami cleanse hollow souls."'

"Hm." Vague interest, at most. "You're strong."

"I suppose so, yes. I _am_ a captain, after all." Jushiro's sword never wavered but his hostility was waning in favor of genuine confusion.

"Is that like a Vasto Lorde?"

Jushiro blinked slowly, opened his mouth, and then closed it without speaking. That was an absolutely ridiculous question. Who would ever compare the two?

But the strange (increasingly so) hollow was waiting patiently for an answer. He carefully chose his words, trying not to offend. "Er…perhaps if you are only considering power levels, they might be similar." And the hollow did seem to be hung up on that subject, didn't he? Then again, he _was_ a hollow – their lives were defined by power and strength. "Are you a Vasto Lorde?"

"I was." His eyes wandered to gaze into the distance over the piles of bodies. "Once. Now, I'm…me. Us. You're still alive."

Delivered with the same deadpan intonation as the rest of the sentence, and making about as much sense, it took Jushiro a moment to realize the hollow was expecting a response to his final non sequitur.

"…Yes?"

"My power hasn't crushed you to death." This time the comment was quiet and obviously introspective. It was a good thing he wasn't expecting a response, because Jushiro had no idea what to say. His eyes widened in shock and, for the first time, he consciously acknowledged the suffocating blanket of reiatsu pressing down on him. As a captain, he was trained to block such things from his senses (necessary when going to battle alongside such powerhouses as the head captain and Kenpachi). He observed the bodies with new eyes and swallowed deeply, realizing what had happened.

* * *

**#4. AU to Turnabout where Starrk is Lilynette's zanpakuto, but it's impossible for them to stay that way.**

It wasn't difficult to tell when the hollowfication had gone too far; a final gush of blood sprayed from Starrk's chest and he gasped, face contorting in a rictus of pain for the last, final push through his soul.

When it faded, he could feel the wind rushing through his chest, cooling the hot blood coating the inside of what was quickly becoming his hollow hole.

Next to him, Lilynette curled up on her side, whimpering with pain. Her body was more physical than Starrk's so it took a little longer but eventually she took a deep stuttering breath and relaxed. One small blood-stained hand released her stomach and reached for his hand.

"I think that's it." Her statement was uncharacteristically flat and unemotional.

Starrk slumped and nodded. "Yeah."

Each of them now had a coin-sized hole passing all the way through their body; slowly but inexorably widening. Instinctively, they knew that there was nothing else Unohana could do for them now; the only thing that could return them to being a shinigami and zanpakuto at this point was true death and a proper konso.

As much as they did not want to be arrancar again; they wanted _that_ even _less_.

"Might as well get this over with, then." Starrk spoke quietly, voice rough.

Lilynette grimaced and nodded, pushing herself up to sit against the tree she'd been using as a headrest.

"What do I do?"

Starrk sighed and scratched at one ear with his claws. He was going to miss this body when the hollowfication was complete.

"Go into your Inner World and find the hole in the ceiling. I'll meet you there."

Sitting next to each other, Starrk and Lilynette relaxed despite their pain, entering a sleep-like trance that allowed them to reach inside without actually being asleep. At least, not completely.

In seconds, Lilynette was wandering the Menos Forest of her Inner World, eyes fixed on the ceiling as she looked for the colorless void where Starrk had once escaped as a Gillian. That Lilynette had so unwisely tried to enter when Muramasa called Starrk away.

Starrk, on the other hand, went somewhere else entirely. Somewhere new but hauntingly familiar. Since their deaths, he had been content to remain in Lilynette's Inner World, serving as her zanpakuto and voice of reason. He'd never tried to establish himself as a separate entity; not in body, mind, or soul.

Now, though, some instinct drove him into his own head. Zanpakuto did not have Inner Worlds. They did not need them; they were mere representations of the soul of their shinigami given voice and the ability to grow into separate entities. But when Starrk closed his eyes in Soul Society, he opened them in the unending desert of Hueco Mundo.

_His_ Inner World.

If he'd allowed death to take its course and became the primary soul, was this where Lilynette would have ended up as a zanpakuto?

It was a disturbing thought.

A twinge in Starrk's chest reminded him of his mission and he shook off the gloomy memories brought to the surface by his surroundings. With a sigh, he set off across the familiar sands. Once, he'd emerged from the Menos Forest at the base of an old crystal tree, following the column of its trunk through the desert sands. He could see its massive branches in the distance, their silhouettes cutting a sharp, dark profile against the moon. Instinctively, he knew there would be a hole among its roots; an exact duplicate to the one in the ceiling of Lilynette's Inner World.

Within his own mind, the distance was only as far as he perceived it to be. Instead of days, it took minutes for him to reach the crystal tree and find what he was looking for under its roots. On this side, the tunnel was more of a hole than a fissure and much smaller – only slightly wider than the width of his shoulders.

In Hueco Mundo, the hole had been irregular and jagged, deep claw marks carved through the stone, sand, and crystal, and was quickly swallowed by the ever-hungry sand. It tried to swallow him too as he forced his way out. Like abrasive water, it poured into the hole over his head and all around until he was swallowing gritty mouthfuls when he tried to breathe and his eyes were closed against the stinging grains. Once he was out, it only took seconds for the sand to erase his tunnel from existence entirely.

There was no sand threatening this tunnel; it was surrounded by a circle of bare stone between crystal roots. Inside, it was a straight edged black abyss. No light penetrated and he could see nothing when he peered inside.

The sight of it caused inexplicable anxiety to rise in his chest, swift and choking, but the resulting lance of pain through his hollow hole reminded him of his purpose.

"Lilynette?" He called down into the void.

There was no answer. Not even an echo greeted him.

* * *

**#5. Scene from Five Years (Ch. 9)**

"OI!"

The breath whooshed from Starrk's lungs as a heavy weight dropped onto his stomach, jarring him instantly (and painfully) from his musings. He let out a startled 'oomph!' and his eyes snapped open, meeting the annoyed glare of his fraccion where she was now sitting on top of him.

"I _said_ I'm ready to fight again!" She snapped, in a tone that made it obvious she'd said it many times before and he hadn't noticed. "Unless you're too lazy…?" He could tell she was eager to 'punish' him some more and he grunted, irreverently shoving her off.

She landed on the ground with an indignant yelp as he sat up and stretched. "I'm good. Just thinking."

"Yeah, yeah…Don't hurt yourself." She rolled her eyes with a disgusted snort, well used to his laziness excuse, and walked across the clearing to pick up her sword, hefting it easily over her shoulders and leaning her head back against the flat of the blade. "So, what's next?"

"Hm…" Starrk stood and stretched, cracking his back and sighing with relief before picking up his zanpakuto. "You're pretty good with balance and you're getting better with sharp turns and weight distribution…how do you feel about working energy attacks in?"

Her eyes lit up and an eager grin spread across her face, her old enthusiasm for becoming stronger jumping to the forefront of her mind. "That sounds awesome!"

Starrk eyed her thoughtfully. "Have you ever done it before?"

"No duh." She scoffed and opened her mouth as her masked right eye starting to light up and a ball of green light formed in front of her face - powering up a cero in demonstration. After about thirty seconds of watching her gradually form her attack, Starrk frowned and shook his head.

"That's too slow. Your enemy would take you out before you could finish."

Lilynette scowled and let the power disperse. "So what am I supposed to do? All our other energy attacks are in resureccion!"

"Bala?"

She scowled and muttered nearly inaudible. "I can't make it strong enough." She looked away. "One of the numeros laughed at me the last time I used it. I kicked his ass!" She glared at him in challenge, but he simply nodded.

"Can you summon your cero in your hands?"

"I…probably?" Lilynette's preference was using her mouth; it was easiest and allowed her to create the strongest version of the energy attacks. It was also the technique that most cero-capable hollows preferred – Starrk was, as ever, an exception. However, if she concentrated, she could still summon the energy elsewhere; it would just be weaker and take a lot longer.

Starrk waited patiently while she did so and, once she had a small, loose ball of energy roughly the size of a quarter, he stopped her. "That's enough. I know you can energize your zanpakuto." (All arrancar could materialize their zanpakuto at will, and as such instinctively knew the reiatsu patterns and energy of their individual blade.) "Have you ever tried directing the energy into it?"

"Eh…" She pulled a face at the thought, eyeing the tiny cero in her hand dubiously. "That sounds stupid. It wouldn't be enough power, anyway. It's not even enough to punch through an adjuchas' mask! Why can't I just throw it?"

"We're talking about fighting shinigami, not hollows. Shinigami don't have heirro." He folded his arms and cocked an unimpressed eyebrow. "And a shinigami will be expecting that; if you can focus the energy through your blade, you can give your blows a harder impact. They won't expect that." He could do it and he was pretty sure she'd pick up on it quickly since directing their energy was one of the core abilities of using their resureccion. In his basic form, he typically avoided it because he didn't want or need the extra punch, and he could just as quickly and easily form a cero. Lilynette, however, needed the advantage.

"I guess…" She grumbled, enthusiasm flagging in the face of what she thought was a pointless exercise. She glanced between the blade and the small cero before tentatively bringing them together, pushing the energy slowly into the blade. At first glance, it didn't do much – there wasn't even a glow surrounding the weapon, and she looked up at Starrk in question.

"Focus the energy where you think I would be most effective."

"It would be 'most effective'-." She lowered her voice ridiculously, trying to mimic his deep voice with the quote. "-as a cero."

He rolled his eyes. He was getting tired of this…he wasn't used to being the proactive one and he couldn't _force_ her to learn anything. "If you don't want to try…"

"No!" She snapped, sensing he was on the verge of giving up. Her hesitation vanished in face of the threat of not learning anything. "I'll do it! Where do I focus it?"

"Try the tip first."

She was surprised by how easy it was; a mere ten seconds later, there was a tiny ball of energy about half the size of the original marble-sized cero at the recurved tip of her blade. "Hey, I did it!" She grinned and Starrk nodded his approval.

"When you attack, is there any difference?" She came towards him with purpose and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head and sheathing his sword. "It won't work on _me._ Try it on the tree."

She did, lunging forward and flicking the blade past the tree so she could yank the tip around it and back towards herself in a claw-like tearing motion. As soon as she moved, the energy withdrew into the blade, but stayed focused near the tip, and the slight extra kick easily ripped through a good four inches of solid wood. She stumbled back, blinking in surprise – that was at least twice as deep as she was able to manage on her own.

Starrk nodded in approval. "Good. Now-."

"Ha!" She leapt forward enthusiastically, ignoring him and fighting invisible imaginary shinigami, slicing her blade through the air in deadly swipes. Her zeal for training resurged at the immediate sign of improvement and brought with it a burst of creativity and energy. Even before Starrk could give her directions, she was pushing more energy into the blade and testing different parts with the sword fighting techniques she already knew. She enhanced her thrusts, slashes, and yanks with energy focused on the curve, the tip, the base, the outer flat edge, the inner flat edge (though that one was a bit of a disaster) … and anything else she could think of.

Starrk found himself forgotten off to the side, but he didn't mind. That was basically what he'd had in mind anyway, and he was satisfied that she was trying again – hopefully, she'd learn the technique before something else dragged her attention away. Seeing as she was already making progress, he thought there was a good chance of it.

With another quiet sigh, he settled back into his sleeping spot and watched her slashing away at imagined enemies, letting her practice and hoping she'd wear herself out. He'd stop her if it looked like she was going to cero the park, give their location away, or hurt herself, but otherwise…

Well, this seemed like a good time for a nap.

* * *

**#6. Scene from Turnabout (Ch. 14)**

Going through a senkaimon was nothing like using a garganta but any lingering unease Starrk felt at the difference was overwhelmed as soon as he stepped out the other side. He'd been so focused on the shinigami, the threat they posed, and everything about Muramasa that he hadn't stopped to think about the implications of Karakura Town's location. The second he stepped out of the portal behind Kyoraku, the faint flickering reiatsu of hundreds of fragile living beings registered to his senses like heart beats, followed by tens of thousands more as the city a mere mile away filtered into range. All of them fragile, fleeting and so, _so_ easy to snuff out.

Starrk _froze._

Vasto Lordes did not go to the World of the Living. Hell, adjuchas avoided it as much as possible and gillians only crossed the dimensional barrier when they were lured or forced. Even a weak Menos Grande could slaughter untold numbers of humans on accident just by standing in the middle of a city and relaxing control on their reiatsu. The resulting dead plus souls were useless to Menos Grandes; barely a taste of a meal compared to the hollows they could get in Hueco Mundo. Humans could not make a dent in the gaping emptiness; that snarling, all-consuming hunger that devoured their entire existence. Worse, just appearing in the Living World attracted shinigami like flies to honey and that was a battle best avoided.

Starrk might not be a hollow anymore, but the Living World still unnerved him. Everything was so fragile that he felt like breathing on it wrong would break it. There were even a few humans right on the other side of the portal, each one a delicate balance of easily-damaged, constantly-aging flesh and bright sparks of fleeting life. Their presence made him instinctively drag his reiatsu as far beneath his skin as possible. Whatever reiatsu signature he was projecting vanished in a flash as he forced his reiatsu back into the cracks and crannies of Lilynette's Inner World.

She squeaked in surprise at the rush and Shunsui missed a step as the energy signature at his back vanished without warning. But there was reiatsu surging in the distance, six shinigami crowding out of the senkaimon, a group of frightened humans looking at him with more wariness than relief, Soifon glaring down the Quincy with clear murderous intent, and…

…and a _Gillian stepping through the trees._

"What the _hell?_ " Renji's strident yell broke the tableau. Without waiting for direction, he leapt into the air. With a single stroke of Zabimaru, he slashed the hollow's mask in half and it disintegrated. The cheering of his zanpakuto spirits silenced seconds later when the noise attracted the attention of more gillians. Dozens of massive masks towered over the centuries-old trees, capping black forms that rose high into the sky and wailed like dying beasts.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Soifon's irritated yell snapped the newly arrived shinigami out of their appalled silence. She turned her back on the Quincy with a disgusted snort and glared at the lieutenants behind Shunsui. "Get up here and fight!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this as a finale to my Spooky Season series! I can't guarantee these scenes will appear, since none of these fics have gone through final editing yet and most of them aren't anywhere near complete, but they're important in the current drafts.
> 
> This chapter will probably mean more to my readers on ffnet, since that's where all of my current Starrk stories are posted, but I hope my readers on Ao3 will enjoy it anyway. My works will be cross-posted eventually along with the rest of 'Howling at the Moon'.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's come along with me for this challenge! I've really enjoyed reading all of your comments!
> 
> Happy Halloween!

**Author's Note:**

> Spooky Season is upon us!
> 
> I've done a few events and challenges in the past for various fandoms and I wanted to try one this year as well and hopefully drag back some Bleach inspiration in the process. I originally wanted to start on October 1st but when the day rolled around I just wasn't up to it.
> 
> So, here's what I've got in mind:
> 
> I will be writing and posting a Halloween ficlet for every day in the last two weeks of October. I've got a list of 150 'spooky' words to use as prompts and I'll be randomly picking three of them to inspire each ficlet. On ffnet, my Bleach ficlets will be posted in 'Howling at the Moon' and on Ao3 my Bleach ficlets will be posted in a new story in the 'Howling at the Moon' series and my BatIM ficlets will be posted as a separate story in that fandom. On Halloween, I'll do something super special to cap off the month.
> 
> If anyone's interested, I'll post some extra one-sentence prompts in the author's notes too. (Ideas that I've chosen not to use.)
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the fics!
> 
> Happy Halloween!


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